


Learning to Breathe

by fallingleaves



Series: Breathe [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Medical Trauma, Needles, Panic Attacks, Phobias, Support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 117,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingleaves/pseuds/fallingleaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry is kidnapped by General Eiling's successor.  It's a month before they finally find him, and Oliver manages to get him out.  The ordeal has taken it's toll, and Barry may not be entirely the same as when he left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 88 Over 58

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first part in a series I'm working on (have random bits of different parts already) and Barry/Snart won't happen until the end of this one. Lots of probably inaccurate medical stuff, and non-con warning (hinted at in this one only). Besides that, I torture Barry Allen way too much, and lots of fluff, I promise.

“Let’s go, let’s go!”

            “I’m driving as fast as I can!”

            “Well, drive faster!”

            “Caitlin –”

            “I need medical equipment _now!_ ”

            Cisco rounded a corner and nearly threw Caitlin against the side of the van.  She was up again in a second, shining a light in Barry’s eyes, pulling back the eyelids with her thumb.  Joe was holding onto Barry’s hand, and he was starting to grip back, to shift and move and moan in pain.  He was completely naked, covered in blood.

            “Barry, can you hear me?” Caitlin asked.

            “It’s alright, Bar, it’s OK now,” Joe said, even as Barry started to struggle against the ties holding him down to the flat board.  It didn’t matter much.  He was unconscious again in a few minutes.

            They rushed him into Star labs.  He had patches of frostbite all over his legs and there were cuts and scrapes all over him, dozens of bruises.  There were scars that weren’t there before and Caitlin was sure she would find evidence of broken bones as well.  Iris and Eddie were waiting for them when they got there.

            “I need an IV line and sutures, now.”

            Cisco ran to get supplies.  Eddie helped Joe get him off the board and onto a bed.

            “Oxygen,” Caitlin said when Cisco got back.  He ran off again.

            “Is he OK?” Iris asked, hands over her mouth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.  She couldn’t breathe.  Eddie put an arm around her shoulder, started to pull her away, but she wouldn’t move.

            “His lung’s collapsed,” Caitlin said, not loud, more to herself than anything.

            “Oxygen,” Cisco said, pulling out the mask.  He fitted it over Barry’s face.

            Caitlin shook her head.  “Put in a ventilator, his heartrate is dropping he’s going to –”

            There was a loud beeping that started and didn’t stop.

            “He’s not breathing,” Caitlin said, “ventilator, now.”

            Cisco fumbled and Caitlin took it, ripping off the mask and putting the tube down Barry’s throat, more roughly than if she had time to be careful.  She put a pulse oximeter on his finger and got the needle for the IV in.  The beeping stopped.  She turned to the monitors, glanced at something and then went back.  She turned to his thigh and the gaping wound there, still bleeding.

            “Sutures,” she said, and Cisco had a tray there and she threaded the needle before putting in tiny, neat stitches.  She repeated the process with another cut on his arm, and then began treating the frostbite on his legs.  Joe was still holding his hand, limp now, and Iris was staring, crying silently while Eddie held her, a blank expression on his face.  And then Barry twitched and his eyes started to open.

            “Barry,” Iris said, jolting forward, and Joe was leaning over him.  Barry’s eyes started to focus, pain-filled and dazed.  His expression changed from confusion to fear and he choked on the tube in his throat, going stiff.

            “Easy, Bar,” Cisco said, “you’re on a ventilator, just relax.”

            “You’re at Star labs,” Joe said, “we got you, it’s OK.”

            There was a sudden relief in Barry’s eyes even as tears gathered there in the corners, his expression still pained and uncomfortable.  He reached up for the tube and Eddie grabbed his hand.  He made a noise of protest in his throat and tried to tug it back.

            “I’ll take it out in fifteen minutes if everything is still good,” Caitlin said, taking Barry’s hand from Eddie and bringing it down flat against the armrest.

            Barry moved his hand up again, looking at Joe, and it broke his heart, the fear and pain there.

            “Just fifteen minutes, Bar, relax,” he said.  Barry started to trembled, and a tear ran down his face.

            “It’s OK, Bar,” Iris said, and she was taking his other hand, holding tightly.  Caitlin moved around him, still cleaning up the wounds, and Barry winced and flinched every time she touched him.  He kept looking from Joe to Iris, begging with his eyes for them to make her stop.  He was confused and disorientated and the tube in his throat felt awful, made him panic at the discomfort of something lodged in his throat.  Every touch hurt, and he wanted Caitlin to stop, to let him rest, but she wouldn’t.  He started to squirm away, but her hand just came down on his skin, firm and gentle, holding him in place.

            “It’s alright, Barry,” Joe said.  He kept saying that, repeating it over and over again, and Barry was thankful, because all he wanted was to curl up in a ball and maybe go home and make Iris watch movies on the couch with him until he fell asleep.  But everything hurt and he was so happy to be out, but he wanted to talk and to hug them and to sleep.

            There was a cough from the far wall.  Barry saw everyone turn, but he couldn’t see.

            “How is he?” a voice said.

            “Stabilizing,” Caitlin said, and then Barry felt a prick on his arm and he jumped, head rocketing to that side, to find Caitlin taking another blood sample.  He made another noise in his throat.  He wanted the tube out.

            “Why does he have that down his throat?”  Another voice.  Barry ducked his head, closed his eyes.  Caitlin kept touching him and it hurt.

            “Oh my God.”  A female voice this time, but Barry wasn’t paying enough attention to identify it.  He pulled away from Caitlin, and squeezed hard on Iris’s hand, backing up on the bed towards her.  Hands reached to hold him in place and he squeezed his eyes shut, more tears sliding down the sides of his face.  He was trembling now.

            “Give him some space.”

            “I need gauze.”

            “Is he OK?”

            “Blood pressure, Cisco?”

            “He’ll be fine.”

            “88 over 58”

            “He’s going into shock.”

            “Shock?”

            “Get me a blanket.”

            “Where?”

            “Top cabinet on the right.”

            “Can’t you sedate him?”

            “Just one, or?”

            “Two – grab two blankets.”

            “Sedation doesn’t work on him – metabolism.”

            “Oh, Christ.”

            “Is he conscious?”

            “Blood pressure?”

            “86 over 56”

            “Jesus – someone hold down his wrists.”

            Barry’s head was spinning with the noise and the pain and the panic.  He kept trying to reach up and his hands were met with resistance.  He couldn’t breathe.

            “Respiratory rate increasing.”

            “Calm him down.”

            Suddenly Iris was in front of him and he wanted to lean forward but he couldn’t move.  Her hand was in his, and then she reached up with the other and touched his face.

            “Barry, it’s me, it’s Iris.  You’re OK, Bar, but you have to calm down for us, OK?  It’s alright, we’ve got you.  It’s OK.”

            Barry tugged at his other arm, but someone was holding it down, so he made vague motions with his head instead.

            “I know, Bar,” Iris said, stroking his hair, “The ventilator is scary and it doesn’t feel good.  They’ll take it out in a little bit, but you have to be good for Cait and stay still, Bar.”

            Barry shook his head, and kept trying to move his hands, crying out of frustration and pain.  He wanted the thing out of his throat and he wanted Caitlin to stop prodding him and he wanted everyone to be quiet except for maybe Iris because her voice was soft and he missed it.

            “Easy, Barry, they’ll be done soon.”  Barry opened his eyes to see Oliver in front of him, a hand on his knee.  Barry blinked, and then started looking around, and sure enough, Roy, Dig, and Felicity were there too.  He closed his eyes again, his head spinning, feeling claustrophobic.  He felt something warm go over his legs, and then around his shoulders and opened his eyes again to see a blanket.  And then another wash of dizziness swept over him and he was out.

           

 

 

 

            He was kept tied down and blindfolded.

            He couldn’t use his speed.  He didn’t know why – maybe it was a drug, or maybe it was because he was starving all the time.  Maybe the way it was always freezing in there did it.  He didn’t know.  It wasn’t blocked, but he was too weak to do much more than vibrate.  So he stayed tied down to the table, naked, blindfolded, continuously slipping in and out of consciousness as they cut and stabbed and poked and prodded.

            General Fawcett.  He took over for General Eiling.  He was nasty, cool-headed, and Barry only saw him once.  At least when he was conscious.

            They barely fed him.  When food was pushed to his lips he swallowed it down fast, teeth crashing together, swallowing so fast he choked.  Water was even worse – he gulped and gulped and arched up when they took the bottle away, trying to get more that they never gave.  He heard voices all the time, a mess of noise, but the silence was worse.  He’d lie awake and in pain, starving, freezing, for hours, trapped in his own mind, blindfolded, seeing nothing, in absolute and total silence.  If he screamed too much when they were working on him then he was gagged, and he was never, ever, let up from the table.  When things were really bad he’d bang his head down against it, try to make himself pass out – he’d beg them to stop, but he never got an answer.  Sometimes they didn’t even speak English, and they never acknowledged anything he said.

            They didn’t know how they had gotten him.  Barry had just disappeared one day.  He was gone for a little under a month before Felicity finally tracked him down.  Oliver went in that night.  They were in the middle of a surgery when he burst in, which was why he was in such bad condition when they got him to Star Labs – Oliver had pulled out all the IV’s and monitors and grabbed him up and ran. 

            When Barry woke up the next day, he didn’t remember what had happened.  And then he opened his eyes, and there was light, and it all came crashing back.

            He jolted upwards and there were hands on his chest in a second, and he panicked, eyes darting everywhere.

            “Easy, easy, man, it’s just me.”  And Barry’s eyes settled on Cisco, and he had a hand gripping his wrist tightly, but Cisco just gently leaned him back again against the bed.

            The ventilator was out.  Barry hadn’t been awake when they took it out.  Caitlin walked in quickly.

            “I’ll get Joe and Iris,” Cisco said, already walking out while Caitlin came up to him.

            “Hey,” she said, smiling at him, and he tried to smile back, once again felt the immense relief to be back, to be out of there.  She took his hand and then Barry turned at the sound of running footsteps as Iris burst in the door, followed by Joe.

            “Barry,” she said, and hugged him and Barry let out an “oof” as she tightened her grip.  “Oh, God, Barry, I missed you so much.”

            Barry closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against her shoulder, hoping that would convey the same.

            “You need to rest right now,” Caitlin said, once Iris had let go of him.  “But you should be fine in a few days.  I just need to do a couple of tests.”

            Barry frowned, eyes moving over all of them.  He was having trouble focusing even now, everything too bright and too fast and too soon.  He still felt weak and tired.

            “Can you tell us what happened?” Joe asked.

            Barry froze up.  Images flashed across his eyes of what happened, of the days spent blindfolded, unable to move.  He opened his mouth, closed it.  He didn’t know what to say.

            “You don’t have to right now,” Iris said, and Barry offered her a tired smile.  He really didn’t want to talk about it right then.  He didn’t really want to think about it, he just wanted to relax with his family and friends, to know that they were there and he was really alright.

            “I’m just going to take a blood sample, Barry,” Caitlin said, approaching him from the other side.

            Barry froze.

            He was pushed back into the corner of the bed, clutching Iris’s arm, in a second, eyes glued to the needle and frantically shaking his head.  They watched as his face went from pale to deathly white, and he started to tremble all over.

            “Bar?” Iris said, and Caitlin moved, back lowering the needle.

            Barry flinched.  He couldn’t breathe.  He didn’t want a blood test, no more poking, no more prodding.  He looked desperately at Iris, then at Joe.  Cisco was staring, and Caitlin was just blinking back at him.

            “You don’t like needles?” Iris said slowly.

            Barry shook his head, trying to calm himself down.  Tears pooled up in the corners of his eyes, and he couldn’t stop shaking.

            “Did they use needles a lot?” Iris pressed, her voice gentle.

            Barry nodded.  He didn’t want to talk about it though, didn’t want Caitlin to stick him with anything.  They already had an IV in, which he was only really noticing now, and he didn’t like that either, but it was already in.

            “Barry,” Caitlin said carefully, “it’s just me.  I’m not going to hurt you.  Can I just take one sample?”

            Barry shook his head, backed up farther towards Iris and Joe. 

            “Barry,” Joe said, “look at me.”

            “No,” Barry said, and his voice croaked, the first thing he’d said since they got him.  He pulled back when Caitlin tried to take his arm, looking desperately at Iris for help.  His face was crumpling with fear and panic.

            “Just look at me,” Joe repeated.

            “Squeeze my hand, Barry,” Iris said.  “It’s just Caitlin.  She won’t hurt you.”

            Barry squeezed his eyes shut as he felt fingers wrap around his arm, and then there was a prick and he bit down hard, a muffled cry coming out from between his teeth.  He squeezed down hard on Iris’s hand and Joe’s came up to rub his shoulder. 

            “It’s OK,” Joe said, “you’re doing a good job, Bar, it’s alright, almost over.”

            Caitlin finished and Barry let out a dizzy breath, trying to stop the gasping he was doing. 

            “It’s alright,” Iris said, and soon Barry found himself wrapped in a hug again.  He melted against the feeling, of a soothing touch after so long of fearing any contact, of knowing that someone was keeping him safe, that he wasn’t alone anymore.  It calmed him a lot, but he was still shaking when she let go.

            “Were you in a medical setting, Barry?” Caitlin asked when he seemed to be better.

            Barry tensed again, swallowed, and nodded, wincing at the memory.

            “Did they like… experiment on you?” Cisco asked, his eyes wide.

            Caitlin shot him a glare, but Barry just nodded, shivering, pulling his arms in tight to his chest.  It felt so good to move, to be able to move around.

            “OK,” Caitlin said, “well, I’m not going to do that to you, Barry.  Not without your consent anyway.  I just want to make sure you get better, OK?  I’m not going to hurt you.”

            Barry nodded, wanted to tell her that yes, of course he knew that.  He knew Caitlin would never hurt him – it just… it just scared him now.

            “I think,” Joe said, “that it would be really great if we got you home.  What do you think, Barry?”

            And Barry nodded fast.  He wanted to go home, to go home to his bed and the couch and watch TV and sit with Joe and Iris and get a blanket – God, a blanket.  He wanted something to eat too – Joe’s spaghetti, or a hamburger – and coffee – he wanted coffee.

            Joe looked up at Caitlin.  “What do you think?”

            “He’s not healing quite as fast,” Caitlin said, “but I’m fairly certain it’s just because he’s malnourished.  I need to take the stitches I put in out, and check up on some of the injuries, but I can do that tomorrow.  As long as you stay with him and make sure he gets lots of rest, I think it’s fine.  Take it slow with food at first.”

            Barry was already sitting up, trying to go.  Caitlin had to take the IV out, which he didn’t like, and the little flinch and the way his forehead creased in fear didn’t go unnoticed, but she got it out fast, and before Barry could think about it too much Joe was putting a hand over his shoulder.

            “Come on son, let’s go home.”


	2. I Can't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry's first check-up. It doesn't go well.

Iris realized several things very quickly upon Barry returning and going to their house.

            The main takeaway was he was afraid of a lot of things now.  He didn’t like the dark, didn’t like silence, and didn’t like to be left alone.  And that wasn’t even touching the whole medical phobia he seemed to have developed.  But Iris didn’t care at the moment.  She was just ecstatic to have him back.

            They spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies on the couch.  Eddie was at work, although Joe had gotten it off.  He made sandwiches, and Barry devoured his, before drinking two bottles of water.  He wanted another one but Joe wouldn’t let him have it, told him he would make himself sick.  He spent the time on the couch curled up against her.  And although they had always been pretty touchy as friends, usually it was her and not him who initiated things.  Now, though, he always had a hand on hers or his head on her shoulder or their knees touching.  He wouldn’t leave her side unless Joe was there to latch onto instead.  The whole thing had her worrying.

            She took a deep breath though, watching as Barry started to fall asleep again next to her.  He was kidnapped, experimented on, and from what Caitlin said, subjected to a fair amount of pain on a regular basis.  He was going to have some stuff to work through, and they would get through it.

            They ate dinner later that night, chicken in a special broth Joe made that was Barry’s favorite.  He ate everything they put on his plate, frowning when Joe told him he couldn’t have any more, but that he’d save the leftovers for sandwiches tomorrow.  By then Barry’s eyes were drooping again.

            “You look tired, Bar, you wanna head up to bed?” Joe asked.

            Barry blinked, and then shook his head.  He hadn’t been talking much at all the whole time – the most he’d said was to ask for more food, to say thank you, and once an “Iris” to get her attention.  It had worried her at first, but he wasn’t being mute, just not talking a whole lot.  He was probably still a little shell shocked over everything, she reasoned.

            But as it got later and later, and Joe kept asked if he wanted to go to bed, he kept shaking his head no, until finally Joe leaned over in front of him and put a hand on his knee.

            “Is there a reason we don’t know about that you don’t want to go to bed, Barry?”

            Barry froze.  Iris watched him go tense, silent for a moment, before finally looking back up at Joe and nodding.

            Joe just nodded back at him.  “Can you tell us what it is?”

            Barry hesitated.  Earlier that day, when they had asked him what had happened to him, his face had screwed up in an expression that clearly said he didn’t want to talk about it.  But as Iris watched, that wasn’t the expression that came over his face now.  No, he wanted to talk now, wanted comfort and someone to listen, but he either didn’t know how to say it or he was afraid to for some reason.

            “I…” he started, and then stopped again.  He finally looked up, his expression almost that of a wince.  “I don’t want it to be dark.”

            “OK,” Joe said, nodding again, keeping his voice steady and calm.  “Why’s that?”

            Barry shuddered.  “It… it scares me,” he said, and he looked down again, face going red.

            “That’s OK, Bar.  We can keep the lights on.  Why does it scare you?”

            And then Barry paused, and now Iris saw a flicker of that expression, that he didn’t want to talk about it, but he swallowed instead and looked up.  “They kept me blindfolded,” he said in a quiet voice.

            Iris felt her blood run cold but Joe didn’t flinch.  “The whole time?”

            He nodded.

            “Oh, God, Barry, I’m so sorry,” Iris said, burst out.  She couldn’t help it.

            “That’s awful son,” Joe said, rubbing his knee.  “But we’re not going to blindfold you.  We can leave the lights on if you want.”

            Barry nodded, and his expression was relieved, losing the tension it had moments ago, and he felt better after saying it, after telling someone.

            “Think you could go up to bed now?” Joe asked.

            But Barry paused.  “I… I don’t want… silence.  I don’t… I don’t like quiet.”

            Joe nodded.  “OK.  Was it quiet there a lot?”  Barry just nodded, and Joe did too.  “OK.  We’ll put on some music, OK?”

            Barry nodded fast.  “And I… can…” he started to stutter, and his face went red again.  He mumbled something.

            “What is it, Bar?” Joe asked.

            “I… don’t… want to be a – alone,” he said, and he wouldn’t meet either of their eyes.

            “Oh, Bar, that’s fine,” Iris said, her face twisting in sympathy.

            “Do you want to sleep in the bed with me?” Joe asked, “or –”  He looked to Iris, questioning.

            “I can stay in your room,” Iris said.

            “What um… the couch?” Barry asked.

            Joe shook his head, smiling.  “Caitlin will have my head if she hears I let you sleep on this old thing.”

            Barry nodded, and then looked hesitantly at Iris.  “My room?  I… I really want to sleep in my own bed.”

            “Of course,” Iris said, and then she was dragging him up by the hand.  Barry got changed into pajamas and it was the best thing he thought he’d ever felt.  He had been naked on the table, and always freezing.  While he was getting ready Iris had turned all the lights on, and set up a speaker with music playing softly.  She had dragged in extra blankets, and they were settled on the floor next to his bed.

            “Did you want all the lights on?” she asked, gesturing.  “Or I can shut the big one off and we’ll just have the lamps.”

            Barry swallowed.  “All?” he said, cringing.

            “OK,” Iris said.  She paused when she saw him still not moving.  “Barry, it’s fine – whatever you need.”

            Barry took a deep breath and nodded.  He went to lie down in the bed and – oh, God, it was so soft.  Barry just about melted into it.  He got under the blankets, and the blankets.  He was warm, so nice and warm.  He looked down at Iris on the floor though and frowned.

            “Do you…” he trailed off, wondering if she would find it awkward, especially considering his previous declarations.

            “You want me to stay in bed with you?” she asked.

            Barry blushed.  “Um… yes.  If… if that’s alright, with you.  If… I just… I don’t know,” he mumbled off.

            “It’s fine, Barry,” she said, already getting up.  “Push over.”  Barry moved over and Iris settled down in the bed next to him and a few months ago maybe that would have had Barry’s heart racing but right now he really just wanted Iris to stay with him so he knew everything was OK.

            Her arm touched his, and she seemed to understand, because she kept just close enough that he could feel the heat off her body and her skin was brushing his somewhere.  That was enough, was enough for him to have enough confidence to close his eyes, for the dark there not to make him panic because he could feel Iris next to him and he knew if he opened his eyes it would be bright and he’d be home.  He could move and there was noise, not silence, and blankets and he was safe and he was home.

 

 

 

 

            The next day, things seemed to be going better.  Both Joe and Iris were off work.  Eddie managed to get the day too, and came over.  The Arrow crew had to rush back to Starling for some emergency, so they weren’t there.  Barry was smiling more, moving more easily, and talking a lot more.  He was starting to feel better physically, and when he woke up and realized it was not just all a dream, he had started to relax.  The one time Joe had brought up his kidnapping Barry had took a deep breath and said to him, “I’ll tell you what happened.  I will.  I just… don’t want to right now.”  And Joe had accepted that, had said that was fine and Barry was relieved, because right now he just wanted to stay with them and not think about it too much.  He laughed and they ate, and Barry finally stopped inhaling everything – although he was still drinking everything in sight unless told not to – he couldn’t help that one as much – felt a compulsory need to drink liquids while he had the chance.  But they talked and hung out and he seemed to be doing better.  That was, until Joe brought up going back to Star labs so Caitlin could finish checking him out.

            Barry went pale and suddenly froze, and both Eddie and Iris stopped in their conversation.

            “Bar?” Joe said, his brow creasing.

            Barry trembled a little bit, wringing his hands.  “Um… can we… can we not?  Please?  Can we wait until tomorrow?”

            “She really needs to see you today, Bar,” Joe said.

            Barry trembled some more and Iris moved a little closer to him, frowning.  “It’s OK,” she said, “she just needs to check on some of your injuries.”

            “I… I don’t want to go,” Barry said, the panic showing in his eyes.

            “You have to go in, Bar,” Joe said, “we’ll be right there with you.  She won’t hurt you, Bar.”

            Barry nodded, but he kept wringing his hands, and when it was time to go he couldn’t stop shaking.  He got into the car though, along with the rest of them.  They all went because Joe was taking him and Iris wouldn’t leave Barry and Eddie was going wherever Iris went.  Eddie sat up front with Joe so Iris could hold Barry’s hand on the way there.  He was pale as a sheet of paper when they got there.

            And then he wouldn’t get out of the car.

            At first, he was just staring straight ahead, and Iris came around to the other side, and opened the car door.  He didn’t move.

            “Barry?”

            He didn’t say anything.  His hands were clenched and there was sweat running down his forehead.  Iris crouched down so she was closer to his height, and put a hand on his knee.

            “Barry, it’s time to go inside,” she said gently.  Joe had come to stand behind her, his frown deepening every second.

            Barry gave a sharp shake of his head, and then a sniff, and Iris took in a long breath.  She could see tears in the corners of his eyes, and his shoulders started to shake.

            “It’s OK, Barry, I promise, but we need you to go inside.”

            He shook his head again, fast, frantic, but he wouldn’t look at her.  His eyes stayed straight ahead, until suddenly they dropped.  He still wouldn’t look over, but now his head was tilted downward, and he stared at the floor for a few seconds before a shudder racked up his body and suddenly he had his head in his hands, trembling all over and holding back sobs.

            “Hey,” Iris said, frowning and reaching over to rub his back, “hey, it’s OK.  It’s OK, Bar.  It’s just Caitlin.”

            He shook his head, hiding his face.  He took in a few shuddering breaths and then, “I c-can’t.  I can’t, Iris.”

            “Sure you can,” she said, still rubbing his back, “it’s OK.  We’ll help you.  It’s alright.”

            “No,” he said, “no, I can’t.  Please, I can’t.”

            “Barry, it’s just Caitlin.  She won’t hurt you.”

            He shook his head some more.  “No, Iris, please, I c-can’t go, I can’t.”

            “It’s OK, Barry,” she said, searching for something that would calm him down.  “can you just walk in with us?  She won’t do anything right away, I promise.”

            “No,” he said, “no, I don’t want to, I don’t want to go.  I’m fine, I feel fine.”

            “Bar, sweetie, she has to take the stitches out anyway,” Iris said, “and –”

            “I don’t want them out!”

            “Bar, you’ve had them out before – it doesn’t hurt, come on, you know that.”

            “I don’t care, I don’t – I don’t want anyone touching me, please, don’t.”

            “She has to take them out, Bar,” she said, “and she has to make sure you’re healthy.  It won’t be anything awful – nothing really painful.  This is just Cait, Barry.  She would never hurt you.”

            “I’m fine,” he said again, tried to insist, “I’m fine, I don’t need to – I’ll take the stitches out myself.  Please, Iris, I want to go home.”

            “We’ll go home right afterwards,” she said, “and you can have ice cream and we’ll watch movies.  I know you must have missed ice cream.”

            “Bar,” Joe said from behind Iris, starting to crouch down as well now, “we need you to be really brave for us, and then we’ll do whatever you want afterwards, I promise.”

            Barry trembled and shook his head.  “No,” he said, “no, please.”

            Iris took his hand again and gave it a squeeze.  “It’s OK, Bar, we’ll be there the whole time, OK?  She’s just going to check you out, and she’ll tell you everything she does before she does it, OK?  We’ll tell her to.  This is just Caitlin, Barry – she’s not going to hurt you.”

            “I know,” Barry said in a weak voice, but he still wouldn’t move.

            “Barry,” Joe said, “we have to make sure you’re all healthy.  This isn’t like the people who had you.  We’re doing this for you, Bar, for your health – to make sure you’re all OK.  If you start getting overwhelmed you can tell Caitlin to stop for a break, OK?  You can say stop and we will.”

            That seemed to help a little, and Barry took a few deep breaths before seeming to get a hold of himself again.  He finally looked up, eyes flitting from Iris to Joe and back.

            “You – promise I can stop?”

            “I promise,” Joe said.

            Barry shuddered, and hesitated, before finally taking a shaky breath and getting out of the car.

            “That’s it,” Joe said, clapping a hand over his shoulder and leaving it there the whole walk in.  They had Barry sit down at a bed, and Caitlin had him take his pants off so she could get a look at his thigh where the worst of the cuts had been. 

            Barry stared down at the stitches while nearly crushing Iris’s hand.

            “This won’t hurt, Barry,” Caitlin said, as she started removing them.  It felt weird and Barry squirmed, but she was right, it didn’t hurt, and he tried to just breathe through it.

            She had to check a few other injuries, pull out a few more stitches, but she didn’t pick up any tools, and she never touched him without telling him she was going to first, and Barry started to relax a little bit.  It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.  And then she said she needed a blood test.

            Barry clammed up and shook his head.  “No,” he said, and when he saw the expressions on the faces of the people around him he started to panic more, looking around frantically at each of them.  “No,” he said again.

            “It’ll only take a second, Barry,” Eddie said, reaching out to give his shoulder a squeeze.

            “No, no,” Barry said, looking back at Caitlin, who had her hands behind a tray.

            “Just take a deep breath, Bar,” Joe said.

            “Look at me,” Iris said.

            “No, no, stop,” Barry said, panicking.

            “Cait’s not doing anything yet, Bar,” Joe said, “just relax.”

            But Barry was shaking his head.  “No blood test.  No.”  He could remember the needle stab, the sticks in the crook of his elbow and his hands constantly – it always came first – always before they did other things, worse things.  It always started with just a prick and then there was the pain.

            “Barry, look at me,” Caitlin said, and Barry did, almost crying, trembling.  But Caitlin looked back at him steadily.  “It’s just me,” she said, “it’s just me, Barry.  I won’t hurt you.”  She brought the syringe up and Barry jerked back, but she didn’t try and reach for his arm, she just held it up for him to see.  “I’m going to take this, and you’re going to feel a little pinch, OK, Barry?  I’m going to do it from your right arm, right here.”  She tapped the vein there with one finger, showing him.  “And you’ll feel a little pinch, and then it’ll feel a little weird for a few seconds while I get the sample.  And then I’ll pull it out, and it’ll be all over.  I’ll put a band aid on it, and then we’ll be done.  That’s it.  That’s all I’m going to do, Barry.  Do you think you can let me do that?”

            Barry didn’t say anything, just cringed and kept his eye on the needle.  Caitlin took his arm.

            He trembled but didn’t pull away, eyes close to crying, still trembling.  Iris started to say something about not looking, but Caitlin shushed her.  She was looking at Barry.

            “You want to watch?” Caitlin asked, looking at him.  “You can watch, Barry.  You can watch and make sure I only do what I said I would.  I’m not going to do anything else, Barry.  Just a pinch for a second.  You want to watch and see?  It’s not really that scary.”

            Barry didn’t answer, but his eyes stayed on the needle and Caitlin brought it down and he whimpered right before it touched him, and then let out a hiss and a little jolt when she stuck him.  She drew the blood out and Barry took in gasping breaths.

            “Getting the sample.  Good job, Barry.  You’re doing a good job.  There and – that’s it.”  She pulled it back out, and reached for a band aid.  Once it was done she smiled at him and rubbed his knee.  “All done.”

            “That’s it, Bar.  All done.  You did a great job, Barry,” Joe said, as Barry tried to catch his breath.  He looked away and up at Joe and closed his eyes for a second.  He was tired again.

            “Can we go home now?” he mumbled.  He was pale again, eyes drooping.

            Joe looked at Caitlin, who nodded, and then they were soon on their way back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-introduction of Oliver in next chapter, and I'll be skipping a couple weeks ahead time wise. Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!


	3. Iris, Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry isn't adjusting well. At least, not as well as he would have liked.

Barry wasn’t adjusting well.

            Well, he wasn’t adjusting as well as he would have liked.  After two weeks, he had insisted he was fine to go back to work, even after the resident psychologist recommended he take another couple weeks off.  He was back to running around as the Flash as well, although thankfully no meta humans had popped up in that time period.  He had calmed down significantly during the day, but the initial fears that they had witnessed upon his return hadn’t gone away, but rather cemented into a form of PTSD that had him going from their regular normal Barry to panic stricken and silent in seconds.  It worried everyone except Barry himself, who was mostly just frustrated with himself.  He just wanted everything to get back to normal – wanted to forget the whole awful experience and be done with it.

            Joe had wanted him to stop Flash activities for the time being, but he had refused.  Ironically, it was not a Flash service that ended up getting him in trouble.  He was running to work.  He was late, as usual, and was speeding his way there when he tripped.

            He had tripped over a box lying in the alleyway that he hadn’t seen, and promptly collided with a wall, and as he was sliding down said wall, all he could think was _Cisco is never going to let me live this one down._

            And that was about when the pain hit him.

            He bit back a scream as he brought his arm up to his face.  His wrist was bent at an angle, and he had to force himself to take deep breaths before he passed out.  His whole side was hurting as well, but it didn’t feel like anything else was broken.  He sat alone in the alley, clutching his broken wrist and swearing.

            And he didn’t know what to do.

            He didn’t want to go to Star labs, didn’t want Caitlin touching it, didn’t want the bone set, didn’t want x-rays and scans and – 

            He had to take a deep breath.  His head was swimming. 

            He pushed the thoughts out of his head and when he could form words that weren’t mere gasps or some form of “fuck, shit, damn,” he pushed himself up on the wall to his feet.  He was lucky he hadn’t made it far because he couldn’t run now – the pain jolted up his arm with every step.  He hid his hand in his jacket.

            He made it all the way to his house before collapsing on the couch.  His head swam as he tried to take deep breaths.

            He was still sitting there when Iris burst in.  Barry’s head snapped up and he immediately hid his hand under a pillow.  Iris came walking in quickly, looking everywhere until her eyes feel on him.  Her shoulders dropped and she let out a long breath.

            “There you are,” she said, coming to sit next to him.  She had a hand on his back before he knew what was going on and she was rubbing softly.  “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice gentle.

            “Yeah – I’m – I’m fine,” he said, not understanding, still hiding his wrist.

            “Did you have another panic attack?” she asked, frowning, but somehow still managing to look sympathetic.  Barry stared at her.

            “No – why – why would…”

            “You didn’t show up for work.”

            Oh.  Oh, shit.  _Oh shit, shit, shit, shit_.

            “Singh’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled.

            “It’s OK,” she said, “He’s not mad – he’s just worried about you.”

            Barry huffed.  “Yeah, OK.”

            “No one even expects you to be working right now, Barry, it’s OK if you have to call in sick because of something.”

            Barry didn’t look up.  She thought he was sick.

            “Singh talked to my dad but you didn’t answer your cell.  We couldn’t find you.”

            “Sorry,” Barry said.

            “It’s OK,” she said, “can you tell me what’s wrong?”

            “I’m fine,” he said, “I just… um, I’m just not feeling great – I’ll – I’ll call Singh, sorry, I just – I lost track of time.”

            She frowned at him some more.  “You sure you’re OK?” she asked.

            “Yeah – yeah, no, I’m fine – sorry, I – I just kind of zoned out I guess, I’m fine.”

            She smiled at him, and then leaned forward to hug him, and Barry relaxed for all of two seconds, and then he yelped.

            Iris tore back.  “What was that?  Did I hurt you?” she asked.

            “No – no, sorry, I’m – fine, I’m fine,” he stuttered, trying to bite back the pain.  She had squished his wrist when she went to hug him, had turned it farther into its angle.

            She was looking at the pillow now, at his pale face.  “Barry, what’s wrong?” she asked, and her eyes were raking over him, looking for injuries.

            “Nothing, I’m fine,” he said, and he would have gotten up, tried to get her out the door, but then she’d see his hand. 

            And then she was reaching for the pillow.

            “Iris – what – hey, I’m fine – I’m –”

            “Oh my God.”

            Iris looked like she was going to be sick and Barry suddenly felt white hot fear everywhere.

            “Please don’t tell Cait,” he burst, reaching up, pleading.  “Please, Iris, it’s fine, please don’t tell her, please.”

            “Barry,” she said, closing her eyes and opening them again before biting back the nausea and reaching forward.  Barry pulled back his arm.

            “Please,” he said, panicking, “please, Iris, please, I’ll be fine, don’t tell Cait.”

            “Barry, that is broken,” she said, still trying to get over her horror at the mangled appendage.

            “No – just, just a little – it’ll – I heal fast, please Iris, I’m fine.”

            “Barry, you need to get to Star Labs,” Iris said.

            And Barry panicked, and he was up, shaking.  “No, no Iris, I don’t – it’s fine, it’ll heal – I’m fine.”

            “Barry it’s not set right,” Iris said.

            “No,” Barry said, and his voice cracked and Iris went forward and she was hugging him again and he couldn’t breathe because all he could see was needles and darkness and sharp stings and the pressure of fingers on his arm just before slicing white pain.

            “It’s OK,” she said, “it’s OK, it’s just Cait.  I’ll stay with you, Barry, it’s alright.”

            “No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head.  Dark.  All dark.  He didn’t know when it was coming, what would happen.  Voices and silence and sharp pains, cracking bones, a sledgehammer to his knee, over, and over, and over again.

            “Shh, it’s OK,” Iris said, “it’s OK – I’ll stay with you.  It’s alright.  Caitlin’s gonna make it alright.”

            And then Iris had her phone out, making a couple calls, and Barry kept babbling.  He didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t go.  He was fine.  He was scared.

            When Eddie showed up and he knew he had a car waiting he broke and turned to Iris in a complete panic.

            “You can’t do this to me,” he said, “Iris, you can’t make me do this again, please.”

            Her face crumpled and any other time he’d feel awful, guilty, but he was too scared to feel anything but panic and pain and he kept driving forward, anything to make her stop and say he didn’t have to go.

            “Please, I can’t – you can’t do this.  Don’t do this to me, please.”  His voice escalated as Eddie took his arm, pulling him up.

            “Alright, come on,” Eddie said, pulling him towards the door while Barry stuck his feet in.

            “No – Iris, help, please,” he said.

            “Barry –” Iris said, and her voice was broken, watching helplessly.

            “You drive,” Eddie said, tossing her the keys and giving her a sympathetic look, his expression not much better than hers.

            “No – no, Iris, no,” Barry said as Eddie forced him into the car.  He got in next to him, and kept a grip on his good arm and Barry was crying.  “Let go of me!” he shouted.

            “Barry, we’re taking you to Star Labs.  It’s OK, you’re going to be fine,” Eddie said, his voice steady.

            “No – no,” Barry cried, “let go of me, let go, let the fuck go.”

            “Barry, it’s OK,” Iris said, turning around from the front seat, “It’s OK – Cait’s going to take care of you – it’s just ust.”

            “Iris, drive,” Eddie said, grappling with Barry as he tried to rip his arm away.  And Iris bit her lip and turned around, going as fast as she could to Star Labs.

            And Barry was struggling – he didn’t want to go – he didn’t want to go but Eddie had his arm and Barry wanted out, he wanted out and Eddie had his wrist and shoulder and he couldn’t breathe.  He screamed and cried but they wouldn’t let him go and he swore at them and tried to get out but he couldn’t run and Eddie kept pinning him to the seat.

            And the situation escalated until Eddie was all out holding him down so he wouldn’t try and jump out of the moving car or hurt himself, and he was starting to think this was a bad idea, that they should have tried to sedate him, that they should have called Caitlin quietly, that they should have lied and said they were going somewhere else, because this was awful and Eddie knew it couldn’t be good for Barry, knew that this was probably number one on the list not to do to people who survived traumatic experiences, but if they didn’t get him to Star Labs soon his wrist would heal wrong.  They didn’t have time to talk him down and negotiate through it and walk him through every step.  Eddie didn’t know what to do, was starting to think this was a horrible idea even if Barry needed medical attention right away, and Iris was up front and he could see her crying, could see how this was tearing her up, and Eddie wasn’t doing much better.  Hearing Barry, hearing anyone, beg and scream and cry to be released was something he never wanted to hear.

            Barry was gone.  He was terrified and panicking and when they arrived there it was like the dial got turned up five notches.  He didn’t want to go, he didn’t.  He didn’t want to be strapped down and blindfolded, didn’t want the one two three pain, didn’t want to hear the crack of his bones snapping back into place, didn’t want Caitlin touching him, anyone touching him, and he snapped and then he was running and it hurt like absolute hell but he didn’t care.  And Eddie and Iris were left staring at the empty space where he had been, where Iris burst into tears.

            He kept running and he didn’t stop until he was on the outside of the city and he was puking in a field from the pain.  And then he passed out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

            “Barry.”

            Barry blinked his eyes open.  Then he shut them again and groaned.  He hurt.  Everything hurt.

            “Barry, can you wake up?”

            Oh, Barry didn’t _want_ to.

            “Open your eyes.”

            And Barry did.  He cracked his eyes open to see Oliver staring back at him, crouching down.  Barry blinked slowly, and then the pain in his wrist hit, and everything came crashing back and he jolted and scrambled backwards.

            “Easy, it’s just me,” Oliver said.

            Barry trembled.  He looked down at his wrist and bile rose in his throat.  It was skewed off, he couldn’t feel his fingers, and it was healed.  It was healed like that.  He couldn’t take his eyes off it, was breathing hard, panicking.  Oh God, oh God, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t –”

            “Barry, hey, look at me,” Oliver said, grabbing both his hands, bringing the damaged one out of his line of sight.  “Look at me.  Just breathe.”

            “It – it –” he started.

            “Caitlin will fix it,” Oliver said, “it’s OK.  You’re OK.”

            Barry shook his head.  “She’ll – God, no – no, not again, please.”  Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

            “Caitlin’s not them,” Oliver said slowly.  “It’s OK.  Just relax.  We don’t have to go right away.”

            Barry shook his head and looked down.  “I can’t feel it,” he said, and he started to cry silently.  “I can’t feel it – I can’t move my fingers.”

            “She’ll fix it,” Oliver said.

            “I don’t – no, I don’t want her to,” Barry said.  He wrapped his arms around his knees, almost rocking.

            “It won’t be fun,” Oliver said, “but it’s OK.  You’ll be OK.”

            “No,” Barry said.

            “You have to let her fix it,” Oliver said.

            Barry shook his head.

            “It’ll hurt, but you’ll be OK.  You’ve gone through worse.”

            “No, I don’t – they did it before, no.”

            Oliver’s face hardened, but his voice was gentle.  “What did they do before?”

            Barry shuddered.  “They broke my ankle.  They let it heal wrong and re-broke it.  It – it hurts.”

            “I know it hurts, Barry,” Oliver said, “but it can’t hurt any more than the first time you broke it.  You can do it.  You have to, Barry.  There’s no getting around this, unless you want your hand to stay like that.”  He nodded at Barry’s wrist and Barry shuddered.

            “No,” he said quietly.

            “Then how about you hop on my bike with me, and we take a ride to Star labs.”

            “No,” Barry said, shuddering again, backing up a little, like a cornered animal.

            “You have to go, Barry.  Come on, you know you have to.”

            Barry did, but a thick dread settled into his bones at even the thought.  He was staring at his wrist though, at the skewed off angle that had him feeling like he was going to throw up, at the absolute wrongness of barely being able to feel his fingers.  He was silent for a while, and Oliver let him, not saying anything.

            “I don’t want to be held down,” Barry said softly, finally, starting to tremble because he knew he couldn’t get out of this, knew he couldn’t but still didn’t want to.

            Oliver looked up.  “Held down?”

            “Eddie kept – and they – I don’t want – I don’t want to be restrained.”

            Oliver nodded slowly.  “OK.”

            Barry watched him, a little surprised he agreed.  “Promise me.”

            “I promise I won’t let them hold you down.”

            “Or tied down.”

            “Or tie you down.”

            “And – and she has to tell me before sh-she does it.”

            “OK.”

            “Pro-”

            “Promise.”

            Barry nodded, and then thought for a little while longer.  “I don’t want to go,” he said quietly.

            “I know, Barry,” Oliver said quietly.  “Why don’t you get up?  Come on.  We won’t be there for a little while anyway  - my bike doesn’t go as fast as you run.”

            Barry hesitated, and Oliver reached down and half-helped half-forced him up.  He put an arm around his shoulder and led him over to Oliver’s motorcycle.

            “What are you even doing here?” Barry mumbled as he got on.

            “They couldn’t find you – freaked out – weren’t sure they could bring you in by themselves,” Oliver said.

            “Oh,” Barry said, feeling hollow.

            “It’s OK,” Oliver said, “just – words next time – you’re scared, you need a minute – they’ll slow down if you need them to.”

            Barry hid his face in the back of Oliver’s shoulder.  “I told them I didn’t want to go,” he mumbled.

            “No,” Oliver said, “you screamed and fought against them – they were scared you’d bolt if they let go – which you did.”

            “I don’t – I don’t even really remember,” Barry said.  It was all a panicked blur, a haze of fear and pain.

            “Well next time, relax first, then explain, then work something out.”

            “I don’t want to go.”

            “I know,” Oliver said, “but you are anyway.”  And he took off.

 

 

            Barry pushed himself back on the bed, folding into a ball, pulling away from Caitlin.

            “I’m just going to look at it, Barry,” she said.

            “No,” he said, “don’t touch.”

            “Barry,” Oliver said.

            “ _No_ ,” Barry said desperately.

            “I’ll just look, I promise,” Caitlin said, and Barry started to cry again.

            “I don’t want you to look,” he said, curling up more.  He flinched when Oliver reached down, and screamed when his hand touched his shoulder.

            “Easy,” Oliver said just as Barry started to yell, “You said you wouldn’t hold me down!”

            “I’m not holding you down,” Oliver said, rubbing his shoulder.  “Just relax, Barry.”

            “I can’t,” Barry yelled and he let out a sob.

            “Easy, easy, Bar,” Oliver said, rubbing his back now as he cried.

            “I don’t want it broken again,” Barry said, and he recognized that he sounded like a child but he was so scared he didn’t care.  It was going to hurt and it was going to hurt bad and he knew it and he thought he could do this as long as they told him what was going on and they didn’t hold him down but now that he was there his heart was racing and he couldn’t, he couldn’t do this.

            “Barry, give Caitlin your wrist,” Oliver said, his voice firm.

            “No,” Barry said, holding it in tight.  “No – I can’t – I’m sorry, please.”

            “It’ll only hurt for a second, Barry,” Oliver said.

            “You’re lying,” he said.

            Oliver sighed.  “Alright, let’s just calm down then, OK?  Just take some deep breaths.”

            “I don’t want –”

            “I don’t care what you want,” Oliver said, but his voice wasn’t unkind, “I don’t care about anything having to do with your wrist, OK?  Just relax.  Stop thinking about it.  Just take deep breaths and focus on calming down.  We’re not doing anything until you calm down.”

            Barry kept crying and mumbling and curling in on himself for a few more minutes, until he finally actually started to listen to Oliver – to slow his breathing down and let out the tension in his shoulders, and after maybe another twenty minutes he had calmed down significantly.

            “OK,” Oliver said, a hand on his shoulder.  “Now, you already told me what you wanted – is there anything else?  No one will hold you down, and Caitlin will tell you everything before she does it.”

            Barry looked nervously from Oliver to Caitlin, already tensing up again, except now it was more anticipation then panic.

            “If there isn’t anything,” Oliver said slowly, “then we’re going to go ahead and get it done.”

            “No,” Barry said, his eyes going wide, and Oliver gave his shoulder a squeeze.  Caitlin reached down slowly, and took his wrist and Barry started shaking.

            He bit his lip as he watched Caitlin poke a bit at his hand.  He didn’t feel much of it.  His wrist just ached now.  Scared tears leaked out of his eyes again, and he looked at Oliver, his breathing already kicking up.

            “Caitlin’s going to re-break it, and right away she’s going to set it,” Oliver said carefully.  “I might hold your arm steady for her if you move too much, but I won’t hold you down, OK?”

            Barry just trembled.  He couldn’t speak, didn’t want to do this, but he was frozen now.

            “OK, do you want Cait to count?”

            Barry didn’t say anything so Oliver nodded at Caitlin and took his hand.  “Just look at me,” Oliver said, and he put himself in Barry’s line of sight so he couldn’t see what Caitlin was doing.  “Alright,” Oliver said, “ready?  Just squeeze my hand.  One, two, three.”

            There was a beat of silence and then a piercing pain and Barry threw his head back, screaming.

            He arched upwards and ripped his hand back and he felt Oliver reach across him, put two hands on his arm and he hadn’t finished the first scream when his bone was pushed back into place.

            He passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so Len in next chapter most likely - i am getting there, I promise - also, a little more Iris&Barry and I think Oliver will be leaving for the time being. More soon! Thanks for reading!


	4. A Lovely Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is a very unhappy patient. The Weather Wizard makes an appearance. Then Barry is a very unhappy patient again. (Oh, and Captain Cold might just show up as well...)

Barry sat on the bed with his legs crossed, wrapped up in a blanket, glaring out from inside.

            “We need you to eat something, Barry,” Caitlin said, painstakingly putting the tray in front of him.  Barry looked down at the sandwich and calorie bar.  He didn’t move.

            “Please, Barry, you need to eat.”

            He glared at her.

            “Barry,” she said, her face strained.  He glared some more.

            “Take the IV out,” he said, his voice flat.

            “Barry, I can’t take it out until –”

            “Take it out and I’ll eat.”

            “Barry.”

            “Take the IV out and –”

            “You’re on a hunger strike now?” Oliver said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

            “Barry we’re on your side,” Caitlin said desperately, “please eat the food, Barry, come on, you must be hungry.”

            “I’m not eating until –”

            “Barry, you need the IV in to get your fluids up.  I’m sure Caitlin can give you sugar water through that but you’ll feel much better if you get something in your stomach now,” Oliver said.

            “No,” Barry said.

            “Barry, I know you don’t like it, but –”

            “I want the IV out _now_ ,” he said, and his voice shook on the last word.  He swallowed hard and then looked up.  “I’ll eat and drink however much you want me to if you just take it out.”  He looked at Caitlin, and there was a bit of desperation in his expression now.  “Please.”

            In truth, Barry wanted to eat.  He wanted to eat and he wanted to drink, because even now after weeks had gone by there was still a part of his brain that screamed at him that he wasn’t going to get any more.  That he needed to eat and drink now as much as he could because they wouldn’t give him any more, sometimes for days at a time.  But Caitlin had put that tray in front of him, and he had asked if she could take the IV out, since he’d be eating and drinking, so he didn’t need it, and she had said no.  And Barry wanted it out, needed it out, couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop feeling hands on him, needles poking, and the food?  Well the food had been the only leverage he had.  So yes, he was on a hunger strike.

            “Just a little longer, Barry,” Caitlin said, “but it won’t help anything not to eat.”

            Barry’s mouth tightened, anger flashing in his eyes again.  “No.”

            “Barry,” Oliver said.

            “No.”

            “You need to eat.”

            “Take the IV out.”

            Oliver let out a sigh.  “Barry, it’s already in, it can’t be that bad already in – I’m sure it doesn’t hurt.”

            “It itches and it’s uncomfortable and I don’t like it – I want it out,” he said all in a rush.  “I just want to go home,” he said, his voice cracking.  _Needles, stab, no, pain, please._ He flinched at the memory.  IV’s meant the burn on drugs in his veins, not enough or too much, always.  They either had no effect or they pumped so much stuff into him that it made him sick, that his systems absorbed it too fast and he was puking or passed out or paralyzed on that table.

            “In just a little bit,” Caitlin said, “but you can’t go until you eat something.”

            Barry scowled and looked down at the plate.  “How long?”

            “Until you can leave?  It depends, it might –”

            “Give me a time frame.”

            “An hour,” Caitlin said after a moment.

            Barry’s eyes widened.  “No,” he said, but it wasn’t angry, sounded more desperate now, surprised and scared.

            “Just an hour,” Caitlin said.

            “No, I – I want to go now,” he said, starting to shake.  “Please, Cait.”  An hour, an hour, he couldn’t do an hour.

            “Eat,” she said, “and I’ll check your wrist when you’ve finished.  If it’s OK, you can leave after that.”

            Barry blinked at her, and then he was devouring the food on the plate.

            “Slower,” she said, “chew!”

            “I am chewing,” he said, pausing for one second before taking another bite.  It was gone in under five minutes.

            “I can go now?” he asked, his eyes going bright for a second.

            “I have to check your wrist.”

            Barry deflated and a little frown stuck itself on his face.  Oliver moved a little closer.

            Caitlin took his wrist gently, and Barry let her, shaking.  She had a scanner that would take an x-ray of it, and quickly ran it through.  She didn’t say anything to Barry, just looked at the results, and then back at his hand.

            “Does it still hurt?” she asked.

            “No,” he said.

            “Barry,” Caitlin said, her tone hard.

            Barry squirmed.  “A little.  Maybe.”

            She took his wrist in both her hands and he tensed up.

            “Relax,” she said, “I’m going to press down a little.  If it hurts just tell me.”

            She poked at his wrist a bit, and then pressed a spot that had him hissing, pulling back.

            “Easy,” Oliver said, his hand coming down against Barry’s shoulder right as he gave out a shudder.

            Caitlin moved more carefully, pressing down and Barry fidgeted and tried to squirm away from her.  She left him for a minute and came back with a brace, pulling it on his arm.

            “You leave this on,” she said, “for the rest of the night.  You can take it off tomorrow morning.  There’s some extra damage because it had to be re-broken, so it’s going to take a little longer.”

            She moved over, and before Barry could process what she was doing, she was holding the IV needle in her hand, sticking a bandage over Barry’s hand.

            He let out a sharp breath, shuddering, but Oliver’s hand on his shoulder steadied him, and at least it was out.  He let out a breath and unwrapped himself from the blanket before getting off the bed.

            “I can go now?” he asked, not really waiting for an answer as he started walking out.

            “Yes,” she said, “next time come in right away!”

            “I will, promise, thanks,” he said, already going down the hall, and then he was gone in a whoosh of air.

           

 

 

 

            That night he had the first nightmare.

            _Dark.  Silence.  Creak.  No._

            Barry was sweating in his sleep.

_The door – the door.  Footsteps.  They were back.  No.  God, please. He was trembling._

_Running water.  Muffled voices – what – can’t hear what they’re saying.  Click.  Metal.  Please, no.  What metal though?  Which ones?  Shift hands, clench fingers.  There’s still blood on the back of his head._

            He turned on the bed, tossing hard to one side.

_They’re – closer, footsteps – wait –_

_Jump.  Jolt.  Touch on his arm, fingers on his arm, wait, no – prick.  Hurts.  Just an IV – just a needle.  He’s trembling, shaking.  Terrified.  Please not again.  Click, more metal.  Which ones, though?  Which_ ones _?_

He kicked out, tangled himself in the blankets.

_Pain.  Pain, pain, pain, sharp white, cutting on his arm, down, slow.  He’s screaming.  It burns, it burns all the way down, elbow to wrist – he can’t move.  Please, no.  Stop.  It’s burning, burning, burning –_

Barry jolted awake, his eyes snapping open, blinded by the lights he still left on.  He blinked, and then sat up, shaking on the bed.  He wiped a hand over his forehead, feeling the sweat there.  He was still trying to catch his breath.

            He sat there for a good half hour.  Then he lay back down, and he kept lying there with his eyes open until his alarm went off in the morning.

 

 

 

            “Fifth avenue, shooting – three guys, but –”

            “Got ‘em,” Barry said, moving at super speed to get the guns away from them and quickly tie them all up for the waiting police.  “What’s next?”  He’s already three streets down, zipping away looking for any more trouble.

            “I think that’s about it,” Cisco said, sounding slightly exasperated, “might want to call it a night.”

            “No, I’m good to keep going – there’s gotta be something else?”

            “Barry, it’s Caitlin – can you come back, please?” he heard her voice over the line.

            Barry had taken to throwing himself into work, both at the precinct and as the Flash.  It kept his mind off things, made it easier to handle, and made him feel like he was _doing_ something, not just wallowing in his own misery.  It made him feel like he was getting better, getting over it all, whether or not that was true.  And, of course, if it left him absolutely exhausted, and not as prone to nightmares or panic attacks, well, that was a plus.

            Barry sighed but skidded around a corner and changed directions.  But just as he did, Cisco’s voice came over the line again.

            “Wait, dude, the weather wizard’s on Commerce Street, he’s –”

            “He’s at a bar,” Barry said, stopping suddenly in front of the building, where a storm was gathering above.  Barry took a moment to look up, take in the swirling clouds that was localized around the one building, people running from the building’s doors and down the street, away from the unexplainable clouds, before he dashed inside.

            “ – and I can put you right back in.”  Barry froze in the doorway.

            “You’re out of your league, Cold.”

            “We’ll see about that.”

            In front of him, while random civilians in various stages of sobriety rushed past them and out the door of the bar, was the Weather Wizard and Captain Cold, the Weather Wizard with a ball of hail the size of a soccer ball forming in his hand and mist creeping up from under his feet, and Cold with the gun up and pointed.  The clouds that had formed outside were covering the ceiling inside as well.

            Mardon launched the hail ball but Cold shot it out of the air as soon as he let it go, and the hail, covered in more ice now, dropped to the ground between them, cracking the flooring.

            A second later and lightening flashed, going for Cold, but he ducked behind a table.  He used it as cover to shoot out at Mardon, but the Weather Wizard was somehow influencing the storm to roll around him now, with hail forming in its mist, spinning around and around him, all the while both getting larger and blocking Cold’s shots.

            Before either of them could notice him, Barry grabbed a chair next to him and sped into the fray surrounding Mardon.

            Bad idea.

            The chair splintered and crashed and although Barry managed to momentarily interrupt the Weather Wizard, knocking him over, the splinters and hail smashed into him as well, sending him stumbling backwards, the hail cutting into him and banging all over him.

            “Be careful, Barry,” he heard Caitlin’s voice over the line.

            “It’s Mardon and Cold,” Barry said back, before speeding forward and grabbing Mardon by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the far wall.

            Mardon’s lip was bleeding in front of him, and Barry snarled as he smirked at him.

            “Nice to see you again, Flash,” he said.

            And the next thing Barry knew white hot pain was bursting through him.  He belatedly recognized the sound of thunder.  He dropped to the ground with a scream and his vision went black for a moment. 

            A foot came down against his ribs and Barry grunted and rolled backwards, trying to get to his feet.  He got another kick while on his hands and knees before scrambling back, grabbing at a table and managing to pull himself hallway up.

            “Maybe I should take you and lock you in a cage,” the Weather Wizard said, approaching him slowly, eyes lit up with cruel anger.  He drew back his fist and Barry only had time to get a hand up halfway before his fist was on his face.  “See how you like it, huh?”

            Barry fell backwards hard, the jolt ripping up his spine as he groaned.  Mardon grinned.  “Nowhere to run now, Flash.”  Barry started to drag himself back up when Mardon suddenly jumped behind a table.  Then there was a bang and the spot he stood before was covered in ice.

            “And here I thought we were having a lovely conversation,” Cold said, stepping out from behind the Bar, hands open, Cold gun in one of them.

            Mardon snarled, the hail forming again, wind picking up.

            “We didn’t ask to be saved.  I owe you nothing,” Mardon said.

            “On the contrary,” Snart said, voice smooth.  He shot again and Mardon ducked only to start shooting hail and lightening.

            The exchange went back and forth in a flurry above Barry’s head as he managed to crawl away.

            “Barry – Barr – …re you – kay?”  The com came through with static, fried by the lightening, probably.

            “Yeah, I’m OK,” Barry said back, and then waited.  “Guys?  Hello?”

            He didn’t get an answer, and Barry used the bar to push himself up this time, out of the fray for the moment, before assessing the situation again.  He took a deep breath, felt the energy crackle in his veins, and shot forward.

            He went right behind them, grabbed a hail ball and flung it back at the Wizard before dodging a cold burst.  He would have slammed into the opposite wall but he jumped up and used it as a backboard, feet hitting, knees bending, and then launching himself back.  He sped back and forth like that, between the two, grabbing Mardon’s own hail and flinging it back at him.

            Cold still had the blackmail of his identity over his head, but Mardon seemed to have become as much of an issue for him as it was for Barry, and Barry’d be damned if he let the Weather Wizard get away again.  He could at least bring Mardon in.

            Barry was spinning around, in between them again, just having dodged a blast from Cold’s gun, when he spun back to face Mardon, and suddenly his eyes went wide.

            He was too late, wasn’t fast enough.  Mardon was grinning, and the ice was already piercing the suit when he saw it.

            A piercing pain, as if in slow motion, as he vainly reached to stop the ice shard, cut into his stomach, just above his hip.  Mardon had sent a wave of needle-sharp ice shards at him, having figured out the Flash’s little game of running into the line of fire.  And Barry didn’t have enough time to stop it, as the shards tore into his stomach, arm, and leg.

            Barry screamed and was down, watching as Mardon’s eyes followed him.  Barry felt adrenaline race through his blood and he was suddenly up, all the way across the room, and Mardon’s eyes blinked in confusion just as Cold’s fire rained in on him.  That was all Barry needed.

            He raced forward, hand out, and Mardon, distracted by Cold’s fire, didn’t turn fast enough, had all his power running forward, and Barry reached back a fist, and punched him in the side of the face.

            Mardon fell just as Barry did, both of them on the ground, but Mardon was out cold, head lolling back on the floor.  Barry looked to check, saw him out, felt a tiny moment of relief and triumph, and then the adrenaline faded just a notch and the pain hit him.

            Barry’s breathing hitched as he turned over, hands finding his stomach.  The ice shard was still in his skin and blood was coming out fast, oozing around the shard.  Barry put his hands against it, pressing on his skin, trying to stop the bleeding.  He felt his face go pale, his head spin with a dizziness that he didn’t know whether was from blood loss or pain.  He hoped the second, but his hands were covered in red now and his back thumped down on the ground as he struggled to breathe.

            _I’m gonna die here,_ he thought, _die stabbed by ice._   What a n _ice_ way to go, his mind supplied.

            He heard footsteps, and barely had time to register it before Snart was leaning over him, crouched down, clicking his tongue.

            “That’s one bad stab wound, Scarlet,” he said.

            Barry bared his teeth, but the effect was dampened as his breath hitched again, stuttering out.  His stomach seared with pain, not to mention the rest of his body.

            And then Snart reached down and Barry pushed his feet out, the soles sliding across the floor as he tried to push himself backwards, away from the hand as he gasped, eyes going wide.

            Snart stopped, going still, hand halfway to Barry’s stomach.

            “I’m going to pull it out,” he said, his face blank.

            “Don’t touch me,” Barry said, still trying to push himself back, but his head hit the bar. 

            Snart looked at his watch.  “Your friends, by my calculations, won’t be able to get here for another twenty three minutes, give or take depending on traffic,” he said, “Police on the other hand, will be here within four.  Do you really want to wait for them?”

            Barry panted, hands still clutched around the wound.  A couple fingers were already numb from the ice.  His eyes darted, looking for a way out of the situation, the panic edging closer and closer.

            “Don’t touch me,” he repeated, when Snart kept staring.

             Cold raised an eyebrow.  “Listen, Scarlet, as much as I would love to watch the police cart you away, it would sort of ruin this little truce we have.  See, I’d much rather have your secret alone.  I don’t like to share.”

            And with that he reached down and grabbed Barry’s arm, hauling him upwards.

            Barry screamed through his teeth, yelling in protest as Snart pulled an arm around his shoulder, practically dragging Barry across the room, the leg where he was hit dragging as they went.

            “Let go of me,” Barry growled through his teeth, yelling in pain with every step.

            “You’re going to have to be quieter if you don’t want to be found,” Snart said, using his shoulder to prop open a back door.  “After you,” he said, smirking.

            Barry scowled and walked through, only for Snart to take his arm again, back to dragging him at a pace about twice as fast as Barry would have liked.  He brought him to his motorcycle, stashed out back in the alley, and then pulled out a black hat.

            “What – ” Barry started.

            “Can’t have you knowing the route to my safe house,” he said, and then the hat was pushed over Barry’s head, over his eyes, pulled down.

            Barry freaked.

            _Black, dark, pain, no, please, stop._   Barry screamed, reached up and tearing at the hat.

            “Jesus,” he heard Cold say, his hand holding it firmly in place over his eyes.

            “ _Let go_ of me,” Barry screamed, his voice shrill now, “stop, get it off – _take it off_!”

            “Jesus, Scarlet, alright,” Cold said, letting go and letting Barry rip the thing off, throwing it on the ground.  Barry was panting, the panic spinning in his head.  He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself, and when he looked up Cold was eyeing him like he was half insane.

            Barry coughed, clearing his throat.  “I don’t – I don’t like blindfolds.”

            Cold closed his eyes for one moment, mumbling something to himself, “… freaking speedster afraid of the dark, unbelievable…”  Cold grabbed him by the back of his suit and dragged him forward, causing Barry to let a sharp yell out in surprise.

            “Get on,” Cold said, and Barry tentatively got onto the motorcycle, trying not to aggravate the wounds.  Cold reached back and pressed Barry’s head roughly into the hood of Cold’s parka.

            “You keep your head down eyes shut, or I swear to God, Red, I’ll drop you in the first ditch I see, identity be damned.”

            Barry let his face drop into the hood, against Cold’s shoulder, breathing in the stale air, as Snart started the motorcycle, going forward.

            Barry could feel Snart turning every once in a while, making sure he wasn’t looking, but with his head in the hood he couldn’t see anything even with his eyes open, and after only a few minutes Snart was pushing him off the motorcycle, clasping one hand over his eyes, the other twisting his arm behind his back suddenly and sharp enough that Barry gasped.

            “Walk,” Snart said, and Barry limped, being pushed up a set of stairs and then through a door, where Snart finally let go of him.

            Barry stumbled to a large bed in the room, all but collapsing down, as Snart went to the blinds, looking out between them.  Barry could hear a police siren.  He looked around the room briefly, but his vision was swimming, and the dizziness was so bad he didn’t think he could stand back up on his own.  It was only one room, probably an apartment, with a small kitchen, a bathroom to the side, and a bed on the far wall.  It was bare, outdated, and dusty.

            Barry closed his eyes as a wash of dizziness swept over him, his ears ringing.  He reached for the wound at his side to find the ice had melted somewhat, but was still lodged firmly in his stomach.  A moment later the bed dipped and he opened his eyes to see Snart sitting next to him.

            He reached down and gripped Barry’s jaw hard, forcing his mouth open and Barry to let out another surprised gasp.  His eyes widened but Snart let go of him just as fast.

            “No blood in your mouth,” Snart said, “that’s a good sign.”

            Barry blinked in confusion and then he felt a hand against his stomach and he tensed up, immediately going to grip the arm with both his hands.

            “Don’t touch,” he said, his voice as hard, as threatening as he could make it.

            “You’re going to heal with that thing in you,” Snart said, and then added, “oh yeah, I know all about your accelerated healing, Scarlet.”  He smirked, and then another hand went down and Barry panicked, shaking, pushing Snart away, thrashing.

            “Goddamnit, Flash, I’m trying to _help_ you,” Snart said, letting go, holding both his hands in the air.

            “I said don’t fucking touch me,” Barry breathed out, stuttering, clenching his teeth.

            Snart’s eyes narrowed.  He pressed his hand hard against Barry’s stomach suddenly and Barry had just enough time to shout a “no” and then Snart was ripping out the ice.

            Barry screamed, jolted upwards and back, scrambling up against the head rest of the bed, cursing, grabbing at his side where the ice was gone, trembling all over.  He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears there behind his eyelids, and no, no he would not cry in front of Snart, in front of _Cold_.  He was fine, he was fine, he was fine, fine, _fine_.

            He was hyperventilating and Snart was talking but he didn’t hear him.  He pushed himself off the bed, fell onto the side, and then scrambled up, made it two steps towards the door before Snart grabbed his wrists and Barry screamed and thrashed, and Snart pushed him down agains the bed, using his bodyweight to pin Barry against it, his wrists down flat on the bed, beside his head.  And he screamed and pushed away but Snart wouldn’t let go and Barry was crying, he couldn’t breathe.  They were going to cut into him and break his bones and stick him with the needles full of the stuff that sent shooting pain up and down his arms and legs and he wanted out, he wanted out right now.

            When he finally calmed down, when he had screamed himself into a fit and finally stopped, exhausted, his vision clearing, his body limp, he opened his eyes slowly.  At first he stared upwards, trying to place himself, trying to figure out what had happened, because it was like coming out of a dream, although he hadn’t passed out.  And then his eyes focused on Cold’s face.

            His expression was impassive now.  Barry just panted, his breathing the only sound in the room, ragged, and Cold slowly loosened his grip and let go of Barry’s wrists, leaving him lying in the same position.

            “They tortured you.”

            Barry felt a jolt, surprise, confusion, shame.  He just stared.

            Cold nodded, looking away for a moment.  “That’s a yes then.  I was wondering what was with the lack of Flash activity that month back.”

            Barry started shuddering, and he just kept staring, his head flat on the bed, watching as Snart considered him with cold eyes.

            He finally nodded down at Barry’s side.  “I need to bandage that,” he said.

            Barry’s lip curled in a snarl and Snart reached for something, then reached for his leg.

            Barry let him lift it onto the bed, pushing him sideways on it, and he inspected the cut there.  When he prodded it though, Barry hissed and pulled it in, away from him.

            “There’s ice fragments in it,” Cold said, his voice flat, but it made Barry’s heart start racing.  Ice fragments – ice fragments would –  “It’s already healing around them,” Cold said, looking back up at Barry, his eyes cautious even if his voice was hard, “I need to get them out.”

            “Don’t,” Barry said, and then his hand was around his ankle and Barry tried to jerk it back, unsuccessfully, and he started to panic.  “Don’t – don’t touch it!”

            “Relax, Scarlet,” Cold said.  He adjusted his grip and Barry trembled, pulling weakly.  He stuttered out a hitching breath, and a tear ran down his face.  “Look,” Cold said, turning back to him, holding up his hand.  “Tweezers,” he said, the metal object grasped between his fingers, “just tweezers.”

            “Cold,” Barry gasped out, “Cold – don’t.”

            He felt a sharp sting and yelled, but then the pain washed away as Cold drew out a long sliver of ice.  It wasn’t melting as fast as Barry would have suspected – must have been something Mardon could do, and Barry lamented the fact.  He let his head fall back down hard, clenching his teeth and screwing his eyes shut to try and stop the sobs that were climbing up his throat.

            “Stop,” Barry said, tried to pull his leg away again.  Cold ignored him.

            “This’ll sting,” was the next thing Barry heard, and he trembled and let out a whimper that had his face beat red, but he couldn’t help.  He tensed, waited for the assault, but it didn’t come.  He opened his eyes to see Snart looking down at him again.

            “You hear me, Scarlet,” Snart said slowly.  He held up a bottle.  “Just alcohol,” he said, “sterilize it.  It’ll burn.  Only for a second.”

            Barry took in a deep breath and nodded, his fingers curling to fists right before the burning pain ripped over his leg.  He let out a muffled yell, teeth clenched, and then slowly released some of the tension he was holding as it faded away.  He felt Snart start bandaging his leg.

            “Why are you doing this?” Barry asked.  His voice was rough from yelling, from crying.  He brought a hand up and wiped it across his face, trying to get rid of the tear stains.

            “You took out Mardon,” Snart said, simply.

            “So.”

            “I meant what I said, Scarlet, I like being the sole keeper of that secret identity.  Wouldn’t help me any if the police found you in that bar.  And if I wanted you dead you’d be dead already.”

            Well wasn’t that a comforting thought.  It still wasn’t really an answer, but Barry didn’t get the chance to ask anymore.  Snart reached up for his stomach next and Barry caught his wrist.

            “Leave it,” he said, but there was desperation in his voice, “please.”

            Snart stared at him for a moment, then pushed his hands away.  “I don’t do torture, Scarlet,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you.  Not right now.”

            “You tortured Cisco’s brother,” Barry said.

            Snart snorted. “That wasn’t torture.  That was one injury.”  Barry didn’t exactly agree, but Snart pressed on his stomach and he hissed.

            “This needs stitches,” he said, looking up.

            Barry’s face went pale.  “No,” he said.

            “Flash –”

            “No.”

            “Look –”

            “Don’t you fucking dare,” Barry said, and there was far more venom in his voice then he thought possible when he was so scared.

            “It just needs a few,” Snart started.

            “You fucking try it Snart, I’ll –”

            “This isn’t exactly how I planned to spend my Friday night either, Scarlet, but –”

            “You’re not sticking any needles in me,” Barry said.

            “Scarelt –”

            “I swear to God, Snart –”

            “Look, kid, it’ll hurt, but it’s not the bad, OK, take it from experience –”

            “I can’t get painkillers,” Barry said.

            “Yeah, neither did I when I had it done,” Snart said, watching him, “just relax, I’ll get it done in a couple minutes.”

            “No,” Barry said, but his voice had taken on a panicked edge as Snart reached for a box by his side.  “Snart – Snart, no, I mean it, I’m serious –”

            “You’re going to bleed out,” Snart said, “surely you’ve had to get stitches put in before?  As the Flash?”

            Barry winced.  There had been a couple times Caitlin had to do that.  It wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat. 

            “They’re not that bad,” Snart said.

            “Speak for yourself,” Barry mumbled, but his eyes widened when he saw Snart pull out the needle and what looked like fishing line.

            “No, Cold, no,” Barry said, “I mean it – don’t –”

            “You just said you’ve gotten them before,” Snart said, expression cold.

            “That was different,” Barry said, eyes on the needle, trying to scramble back but Snart had a firm hand on his side, “that was – that was before.”

            Snart’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but only a moment.  “Before?”

            Barry swallowed.  “Just don’t – don’t put the stitches in.  I’ll be fine.”

            “Before what?”

            “Before – before they took me,” Barry said, his voice escalating, face flushing, but eyes still on the needle.

            “Before they tortured you?”

            Barry looked away for a moment, flinching.  “Yeah, sure, before that.”

            “They put stitches in?”

            Barry flinched again.  “Just – I can’t,” he said.

            “Did they put stitches in?” Cold repeated, leaning in a little.

            “Yes – yes, OK?  They did – a lot,” Barry burst out, “so can you just – can you just not?  Please?”

            Cold looked like he might acquiesce for a moment, and then he turned back to Barry.

            “Lean down,” he said.

            Barry sputtered, and then Cold put down the needle long enough to push Barry’s forehead back, down against the mattress.  Barry started trembling all over.

            “Snart,” he said, “Snart, please.”

            “Just relax, kid,” he said, and it was probably the gentlest Barry had ever heard.  “Eight stitches, then I’ll be done.”

            “No,” Barry squeaked, “Cold, no, I don’t – no.”

            “Relax,” he said, and his hand moved up and down Barry’s shoulder for a moment, a comforting gesture.  “Just take some deep breaths.  It’ll help.”

            Barry sputtered and closed his eyes and felt the needle go through his skin.  He let out a sharp yell, trembling, fighting to breathe.

            “Just relax, try to keep still,” Snart said, “Just a few minutes, I promise.”

            “You lie,” Barry said through clenched teeth.

            Snart let out a laugh.  “Yeah, I do,” Snart said, “but I only lie on jobs.”

            “Liar,” Barry said.

            “We’ve established that,” Snart said, making another stitch that had Barry’s breath catching.

            “No,” Barry got out, “now.  You’re lying now.”

            “About the jobs?  Maybe.  Not usually though.  Only five left.”

            Barry let out a frustrated and pained groan.  He started to squirm.

            “You hold still I’ll be done faster,” Snart said.

            Barry clenched his teeth but made an effort to stop moving.  He tried to focus on taking deep breaths, but they were still coming too fast and too shallow.

            “How come you’re afraid of stitches?” Snart asked.

            Barry yelled as another stitch was made.  “I told you.”

            “No you didn’t.”

            “They… they put in a lot.”

            “I’m sure that hurt like a bitch, but it’s not really a reason to be afraid.”

            “Fuck you,” Barry said, and he swore Snart smirked.

            “The blindfold thing part of that misadventure too?” he asked.

            “None of your damn business,” Barry said.

            “You know, you could try to be a bit nicer, I am stitching up your side after all.”

            “Against my will.”

            “For your own good.”

            “Fuck you.”

            “Keep saying that I’ll think you want to.”

            Barry felt his face burn but then there was a crushing pain on his side and he yelped and jerked upwards.

            A hand was on his chest, pushing him down.

            “Breathe,” Cold said, “Just breathe.  Alcohol again.  It’s all done.”

            Barry stuttered out a few breaths, managed to calm himself down again, lying on his back.

            “Sit up,” Snart said, and he helped Barry to, before wrapping up the wound on his stomach.

            “Alright, let me see your hand,” he said once that was done.

            Barry pushed himself back, up against the headboard, and then looked down at his wrist.  There was no ice there, but it had sliced through his forearm.  It had already stopped bleeding.

            “It’s fine,” Barry said.

            Snart just looked at him and Barry felt the nervousness come back.

            “Really, it’s fine,” Barry said again, “it stopped bleeding.”

            “Give me your hand, kid.”

            Barry didn’t move and Snart sighed.  “What do you think I’m going to do, Flash?  If I wanted to hurt you I would have done it by now.”  Barry still didn’t move and neither did Snart.  “I’m just going to wrap it up,” Snart said, “disinfect it.”

            “That’ll hurt,” Barry said, pulling back when Snart reached for his hand.  He felt childish for saying it, knew it was a childish thing to say, but it burst out of his mouth because he couldn’t say he was terrified, that it scared him, that he couldn’t stand anything medical, even wrapping things up, even this.

            “Yes, it will,” Snart said, grabbing his wrist even as he tugged it back, “but only for a second.”

            “Hurts longer,” Barry muttered, watching as Snart grabbed the cloth soaked in alcohol he had used on his leg.  He tensed up and pulled, trying to yank his arm back when he saw it.  “Wait,” he said, the panic creeping into his voice, “wait – Snart – Snart, wait, stop!”

            Barry closed his eyes but the pain didn’t come.  He opened them slowly to see Snart staring at him, the cloth held a couple inches off his skin.  He started taking quick breaths, and then it was all spinning, and it didn’t matter that Snart wasn’t doing anything, because he had and he would and Barry couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, and Snart still had his hand and he couldn’t move it, and no, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t, he needed to go home, needed to get away, needed Iris or Oliver or Joe or someone because he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t –

            “Easy, Flash, I stopped.  I stopped, relax.”

            Barry blinked, and something like surprise washed over him, surprised to see Snart there, surprised that he had stopped, that he had actually stopped, and disorientated.  He looked around, blinking, confused.  Where was he?  It took a moment to come back, the safe house, Weather Wizard –

            “Breathe, Barry,” he said, and Barry was slumping against the head board.  He wanted to go home.  He wanted Iris.  Everything hurt.  They had him.  No they didn’t.  It was Snart.  That wasn’t better.

            “Flash – Flash, slower, breathe slower.”

            Safe house.  Snart.  Caitlin.  His stomach hurt.  Stitches.  No – no stitches, please.  Dark.  Can’t see.  Stop.  No.  Needle pokes then pain then dark black nothing different then the other dark black waking and silence, so much silence, drip of water, hum of a fan, dead silence sometimes, absolutely.  Alone, cold.  He was freezing.  He was freezing, freezing, why was he so freezing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! And we have Len. More soon. Got some stuff in between to fill in with Barry and what's going on with the rest of them, and then we'll have Len and Mardon's little altercation officially resolved. So I might start part 2 now? And continue with both at the same time? Like part 2 will be skipping ahead a bit... not sure. Might wait. Let me know what you guys thought of this one!


	5. We're Going on a Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snart shows up again, Barry get's hurt, and Mardon's making things difficult.

Barry woke up slowly.  He blinked, moved his fingers, opened his eyes.  He stared at the ceiling, before it all came rushing back.  The fight, Snart, his side, the wounds.  He lifted his head up a little bit, squinting his eyes at the light.  Everywhere hurt, and he looked down to find himself naked except for his boxers, his side rewrapped and his skin a patchwork of bruises.  He leaned his head up a little bit, confused.  He wasn’t in Snart’s safe house.  He was back at Star Labs.  He looked up, and caught sight of the back of Iris’s head.

            “Iris,” he said, but his voice caught in his throat, scratchy weak.  He tried to sit up and his side screamed in pain.  His head spun, dizzy, and he said again, a little louder, a little more panicked, “ _Iris_.”

            She turned around and her eyes met his and Barry felt relief for the first time since he had gotten hurt.  She was up and to him in a moment and Barry reached up just as she came down, grabbing him in a hug and Barry was clutching the back of her shirt, mumbling.

            “Iris, Iris,” he said, and she was rubbing his back.

            “It’s OK,” she said, “it’s OK, Cait checked everything.  You’re OK.”

            “I wanna go home,” Barry said, “Iris, I want to go home, please.”  He felt like he was going to cry, exhausted.  He just wanted to sleep but there was a restlessness in him here, a fear that wouldn’t let him really rest, not the deep sleep he wanted.  He was nervous here now, always, in the med bay.  He couldn’t think straight, didn’t want to think straight.  He still felt disorientated and exhausted and upset.  He felt shaky, like he would crack at any moment, and he was scared.  “Please, I want to go home,” Barry said.

            “Yeah, let me just get Cait,” Iris said, “I’ll take you home, I promise, Barry.”

            “OK, thank you, Iris, I,” Barry said, “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.”  And he started crying, just a little, just a bit, and tried to wipe it away, embarrassed.  “I’m sorry,” he said again.

            “You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” she said, leaning back and giving him a puzzled, worried look.  “You didn’t do anything.”

            And he didn’t know why he was apologizing, just that he felt dumb and childish and stupid for being so scared, and she didn’t understand, didn’t understand how much he needed to go home.  He didn’t know how he had even gotten there, what had happened to Snart, but he didn’t care.  He didn’t care, he wanted to sleep.

            “I don’t feel good,” he mumbled when Iris came back, Caitlin in tow.  She reached for his side and suddenly he was crying.

            “Barry – Barry, hey, it’s OK – it’s alright, Barry.”

            He shook his head.  “Don’t touch.”  _Don’t touch, don’t touch._   He let out a sob and didn’t know why.  “God, please – I can’t.”

            “OK, it’s alright,” Iris said, hugging him, and Cait snuck a look under the bandages at his side.  She said something to Iris but Barry wasn’t paying attention.  Iris kept mumbling reassurances back to him.

            “We’re gonna go home now,” Iris said, rubbing his arms, “OK?  OK, Barry?”

            Barry stared forward and then nodded slowly.  He let her guide him off the bed, noticed the twinge of pain in his ankle, the dull ache in his stomach.  He followed her to a car, Eddie’s car, waiting outside, and she drove him home.

            When they got there he went right inside to the kitchen, and as Iris watched, fumbled through the cabinets grabbing mugs and glasses and even a couple of pitchers, and then started systematically filling every one of them with water.

            “Barry,” Iris said, but she just stood there, didn’t know what to do.

            And Barry wasn’t listening.  Barry was thinking water.  He was thinking he needed water, needed to drink, and he was drinking, he was picking up one of the cups every few seconds, and filling them all, refilling them.  He needed water.  They wouldn’t give him water.  He was thirsty.  He was dying of thirst.  He was parched.  They wouldn’t give him water, and he needed to see it, needed it out in case, because they wouldn’t give him any more.

            “Barry,” Iris said again, and she caught his arm.  Barry turned, and his eyes were lost.

            Iris took a deep breath and reached up slowly, putting her hands on either side of Barry’s face.  “Barry,” she said slowly, “listen to me.  There’s plenty of water.  You can have as much as you want, OK, but slow down.  Slow down.  You’ll make yourself sick.”

            Barry frowned at her, stared for a moment, and then shook his head.  He couldn’t stop.  He needed to see it, to know it was there, needed to fill everything in the house so there’d be enough, no matter what.

            “Barry,” Iris said as he started to turn away from him, “Barry!”

            He got all the way through the glasses and mugs, had filled up half the bowls, when Iris finally managed to coax him away.  He kept glancing back, was utterly silent now.  He hadn’t said a word since they had been at Star Labs and Iris was freaking out.  She had texted her dad and Eddie, but neither had responded yet and her father’s kitchen was currently filled with different containers all holding water from their sink.  Barry wouldn’t talk, but the nervousness that had been filling him up, strung him tight like a spring since the moment he woke up at Star Labs had abated as he filled the containers with water.  Now he was just a little jumpy, a little nervous, looking skittish, but not ready to bolt anymore.  She got him on the couch, wrapped him in a blanket because he had started shivering again, and put on a movie.

            He had taken her hand, tentatively at first, but now he wouldn’t let go.  He had curled up into the side of the couch, leaning just slightly against her, and every time he shuddered she would say something else about how she was right there and he was OK and everything was alright.  He fell asleep about thirty minutes into the movie.

           

 

 

           

 

            Barry stayed home from work the next day.  He walked around in a daze the whole time, Joe home at first, then Caitlin when he had to leave, and finally Iris once she got off work.  He was disorientated the whole time, and on several occasions started filling the house’s containers with water again.  When he wasn’t cataloguing every food item in the fridge and pantry.  He had a couple episodes during the day, a couple of panic attacks, and he wouldn’t let Caitlin take out the stitches.  She had to guide him through getting them out on his own, sitting a good ten feet away from him while he picked at the line.

            But when he wasn’t better the next day, when he woke up and drank water and apple juice and when that ran out the orange juice too, until he threw up, Iris marched herself to Star Labs, bullied all the information they had on Snart out of Cisco, and managed to get the address of one of the bars they knew he frequented.

            She hung out there the whole night without success, but on the second night, three days after Barry had woken up at Star Labs from the fight with the Weather Wizard and Snart, she spotted him walking in sometime past eleven.

            She followed him to a corner of the room and when he turned blocked his way.

            “What did you do to my brother?”

            Snart’s eyes went from surprised to blank in a second, and he leaned back and eyed her with the same impassive, if hard, expression that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face.

            “Miss Iris West,” he said, “I assume you’re talking about the Flash?”

            She looked side to side for a moment, flustered at him having mentioned the Flash in such a public place, but nodded and gathered back up her nerve, scowling at him.

            “What did you do?” she said again, forcefully.

            “You’ll have to be more specific.”

            “He’s not acting like himself,” she said, not wanting to give away the details lest he find a way to use them against Barry later.  “What did you do to him?”

            He eyed her again for a moment, and then arched an eyebrow.  “I dragged him out of a crime scene and then stitched up a wound on his side.  He passed out and I left him on the doorstep to Star Labs.  Do tell, which exactly of these acts awarded me your hostility, Miss West?”

            She narrowed her eyes at him.  “If you hurt him…” she started.

            And to her surprise he rolled his eyes.  “You’re going to what?  To kill me?  Beat me up?  Arrest me?  No offense here, but I’m pretty sure Barry is more than capable of taking care of himself.”

            “Not right now,” she said, and now his eyes narrowed.

            “Because he was taken?”

            “Who told you that?”

            “Barry.  Or, his actions did then.”

            “Well he’s still plenty able to take care of you.”

            He snorted at that.  “I’m sure,” he said.

            “You must have done something,” Iris pressed, taking a step forward, leaning in towards him.  Snart didn’t back off.  “He hasn’t been well, and you’re going to tell me why.”

            “Is that so,” Snart said, an eyebrow raised again.

            “Yes.”

            “And why would I do that?”

            “Because if Barry is hurt than I don’t give a damn about his identity, and then there’s nothing stopping me from getting my dad or my boyfriend to arrest you.”  It was half a bluff, but Iris was hoping it would do the trick.  If it worked though, then Snart didn’t show it, just cocked his head slightly to one side and started a little smirk.

            “Well, sorry to ruin your plans, Iris West, but I didn’t _do_ anything to your friend.  I’m assuming he’s not talking to you about it if you’re actually desperate enough to come find me, so I’ll let you in on a little secret – Barry doesn’t appreciate sterilizing stab wounds.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll be going.”

            He pushed past her with that, already heading for the door, leaving Iris standing there, only to watch.

 

 

 

 

            Leonard Snart found Barry Allen very interesting.  It was a fact he had acknowledged for a while, ever since finding out that he was the face behind the mask.  The Flash’s power itself is a fascinating thing, but the man behind it – that was another story by itself.  A forensic scientist, mother murdered by his father, brought up by his best friend’s father turned crime fighting speedster with a moral code to match a nun.  It was almost sickening.

            And now Barry Allen was terrified of injuries and blood, it seemed.  And Snart knew that could potentially be an extremely helpful piece of information in the future.

            He was going to leave it at that, tuck the information away for some later time, leave the speedster alone as long as he left Len alone, but then Iris West found him and unknowingly piqued his interest.

            Barry Allen was not doing well.  When he hyperventilated himself into a fit in front of Len and then passed out, he could have said as much, but Iris approached him three days after the event even occurred, and he was apparently still not well, so much that she thought he had hurt him in some way.  Admittedly, it was not an outrageous suspicion, but as Leonard had not actually done anything to the kid, it surprised him.

            How bad was this little phobia of his?  And what exactly did the people who took him do?  For that matter, who took him?

            Len was curious, and Len didn’t do well when he was curious, so he decided to look into it.

            Setting the bugs in the West’s home was easy enough.  Star Labs was harder, but he got it done.  He wasn’t a master thief for nothing.  He knew how to avoid security cameras and pick a few locks.

            And it turned out the kid wasn’t afraid of injuries or blood so much as it seemed he was terrified of any sort of medical situation.  He overheard a couple of conversations, but it was hard to pick out the facts between the words he heard.  Most of it was daily talk and nothing of use or importance, but it was all in there somewhere.  Eventually over the next week Snart gathered that Barry had a fixation on eating and drinking, refused to have anyone check his injuries, and that he was taken by some people in military.  He overheard a few panic attacks, some hushed conversations between Iris and Joe West, and what sounded like nightmares during the night.

            And if Len was being completely honest with himself, the more he listened, the worse the idea to bug the place seemed.  Len wasn’t an expert but he was pretty confident in his diagnosis of some severe PTSD, and although he wouldn’t kid himself and say he wouldn’t use the information against him if he had to, Len was liking the idea of it less and less.  It left a sick taste in his mouth, one that he had become pretty immune to with the work he did, but that still popped up every once in a while on particularly unsavory jobs.  There were certain lines he never thought he would have crossed, which he did cross, and as a result the remaining lines he held always seemed fuzzy, always worried him.  It was one of the few areas of his life that made him uneasy, that ill-defined side of him, wondering how far he’d go to get a job done, to save himself, to save his sister.  He didn’t know.

            Barry Allen was one of those lines.  He didn’t like the idea of torturing the kid anymore.  He had his identity, and that was excellent black mail which he felt no remorse for, but this was different.  He didn’t need this information.  After a week he stopped listening to the bugs, shut down the program.

            The Flash kept showing up, the telltale red streak in the news, blurred pictures showing up online, and if Snart maybe hoped the kid was getting better, well, he reasoned, he liked a challenge, and a broken Barry Allen was not a challenge.

            The kid was strong and he was smart, and he was complicated.  His past made sure of that.  It made him an interesting opponent.  And with the Flash’s identity his to keep, there were no real risks.  It was a game, a game better than any single heist or robbery, and one that Snart loved.

            Then the freaking weather guy had to blow a hole in it.

            Mardon.  Len looked him up.  Guy had issues.  Guy also was interfering with a three month long plan with the Santiago family that he had both Lisa and Mick in on, which he had invested a fair amount of money in, and which promised to give an even larger payoff as well as a new standing that would set him up well for his next heist.  And the guy goes in and in a matter of a few days manages to all but ruin the entire thing.

            So Snart told him to back off.  And what does Mardon do?  Find him at a bar three days later to tell him to get lost.  And there goes three months of careful planning and execution, not to mention half a bank robbery score.

            And that was why Snart was currently prying a knife under the edge of Barry Allen’s kitchen window at nine o’clock at night.  The detective was out, the kid was there, and he was pretty sure that was Cisco Ramon’s car in the driveway as well.

           

 

            Cisco dropped the cup.

            “Jesus, Cisco, you almost gave me a hea-”

            Barry stopped.

            “Good evening, Barry.  Cisco.”  Snart smirked.

            In a second Cisco was across the room right in front of the door and Barry Allen was up in Snart’s face, energy crackling around him.

            “What the hell are you doing here?” he said.

            Snart took a step back.  He walked around the back of the couch carefully, looking around at the house like he hadn’t been there two weeks before to bug the place.

            “Nice place you got,” Snart said, giving another grin.

            Barry’s teeth clenched, and before he could say anything else, Snart continued.

            “We have a common problem,” Snart said.

            “Yeah, and what would that be?” Barry said, matching him step for step on the opposite side of the couch, eyes flicking to Cisco every once in a while.

            “Mark Mardon.”

            Barry’s eyes flickered and his fists lowered just the slightest bit, and then his eyes narrowed in a tiny bit of suspicion.  “What about him?”

            “I need him gone.  You don’t want me to kill anyone.  Hence, we have an impasse.”

            “And what are you suggesting we do?” Barry said carefully, still eyeing him.

            “Simple,” Cold said, holding out his hands, “I tell you where to find him.  You run and whisk him away.”

            “That didn’t work so well the last time,” Barry said.

            “This time he won’t be awake,” Snart said.

            Barry’s eyebrows shot up, but Snart just smirked.  “Leave that to me, Scarlet.”

            “So you’re just going to give me an address?” he asked slowly.

            “Unless you’d rather I ice him in his sleep,” Snart put in.

            Barry’s mouth tightened.  “You know, you could have avoided all this in the first place if you hadn’t _let him out_.”

            Snart waved it away.  “A minor setback.”

            Barry scowled and Len’s smirk widened. 

            “If we’re in agreement then, I’ll text you the address and the time to get him.”  He turned to go for the back door.

            “You have my number?” Barry blurt out, an incredulous look on his face that made Len let out a quick laugh.  He didn’t answer, going out the back way.

 

 

 

 

 

            Barry stuck a pleading look at Iris.  Iris stared back.  They were both silent.  Iris’s arms were crossed in front of her, and Barry was leaning forward, hands clasped together, eyes wide, doing his absolute best to look completely miserable and desperate.

            “That’s not going to work on me, Barry.”

            Barry broke and threw up his hands.  “Iris!”

            “Strip.”

            Barry scowled at her, and then crossed his arms in front of him, hunched over a little.  “No.”

            “Barry.”

            “No.”

            “Barry Allen.”

            “No.”

            Iris sucked in a breath, and then they locked eyes again, this time an angry staring contest.

            Eddie, Caitlin, and Cisco watched from a few feet away.

            “Is she always this scary?” Cisco asked.

            “Yes,” Eddie said.

            “Barry Allen you take off that shirt right now,” Iris said.

            “I will not, _mom_ ,” Barry said, snarling.

            “Well, only when she’s worried,” Eddie added.

            Iris bristled.  “Take off that shirt before I rip it off you.”

            “How scandalous,” Barry said.

            Iris looked like she was ready to hit him and Barry had a stubborn glint in his eye that the rest of them knew too well.

            But Iris took in a deep breath instead.  “You are going to take off your shirt, you are going to let Caitlin look at your back, and you are going to be the perfect patient, or so help me god, Bartholomew –”

            “Bartholomew?” Cisco mouthed to Caitlin.

            “ – I will hit you over the head until you are unconscious and then Caitlin will look at your back.”

            “Go ahead,” Barry said.

            Iris’s mouth tightened.  “Barry.”

            “I don’t care.”

            “Barry, you are injured and Caitlin needs to look at –”

            “It’s _fine_ ,” Barry said, a hint of that desperate edge coming back, but his mouth still tight with anger.  “I’m fine.  It’s not bad.”

            “This isn’t optional,” Iris said.          

            “You’re right, because I’m not doing it.  I don’t need Caitlin to check me out.”

            “Yes you do.”

            “No I don’t.  You haven’t even seen it, you –”

            “Because you won’t let me!  If it’s so superficial then why don’t you just let me see it!”

            “Because you’ll overreact!”

            “Do you think I like seeing you upset?” Iris yelled, “do you think I’d put you through this if you didn’t need to?”

            “Yes!” Barry yelled, “it’s fine – it’s _fine_.”

            “It’s not, and you’re too upset to admit that.”

            “I’m twenty five I can decide when I need to go to the doctors and when I’m fine.”

            “No you can’t, Barry,” Iris said, “you’re scared and you let it dictate your health.  You can’t take care of yourself on your own right now, Barry.”

            “I’m not five!  I’m not a little kid and I’m not – I’m not damaged or something, Iris – I can take care of myself – I didn’t – I’m fine – I’m fine, Iris, I’m fucking fine.  Stop acting like I’m broken or something!”

            “I’m not acting like you’re broken!” she yelled back, “I’m acting like you were experimented on and are scared of doctors to the point where you put your health in jeopardy!  You _can’t_ take care of yourself when it comes to this, Barry.  You need to let other people _help_ you.  Let us help you.”

            Barry scowled and his eyes dropped, his teeth clenched tightly together.  Iris could practically see the anger and frustration simmering behind his eyes.  He was silent for a while.  Iris watched some of the anger get eaten away by fear though, and she knew he wasn’t really angry anyway.  He was frustrated, and he was scared, and it was easier to be angry then to be scared.  But when his eyes rose they were still hard, with a hint of something like suspicion in them.

            He still didn’t say anything, and Iris realized she was going to have to be the one to bridge this.

            She took a deep breath, and when she spoke her voice was calm and steady.  “Why don’t you take off your shirt, and I’ll hold a mirror, so you can see what Caitlin’s doing.  She’ll tell you before she touches you, and she’ll let you know everything she’s going to do.  If it’s really not that bad, then it’ll be done soon, and if it is, then she needs to look at it.  I’ll stay right with you, and you’ll be just fine.”

            His mouth tightened, and after a moment he let out a soft, “Fine.”

            Iris let out a breath and Caitlin came over.  Cisco ran and when he came back he had two small mirrors.  Iris was just happy they did actually have some.

            Barry clenched his teeth and pulled off his shirt.  Eddie came around to stand next to him, and although Caitlin’s face remained impassive, Eddie’s eyes widened in shock.  He shot a look at Iris that had her cringing.

            Cisco handed one of the mirrors to Iris, and she held it up, but Barry took it from her, positioning it so that he could see Cisco’s mirror, which he held so it reflected his back and what Caitlin was doing.  When Iris saw it her teeth set, and Barry’s face went pale as he looked at his own skin.

            His breathing started to quicken, and he shook his head.  His eyes widened in panic and Iris grabbed his hand, her other going to rub his shoulder.

            “I – I didn’t think it was that bad,” he said, all fear now.  “it doesn’t hurt that much,” he said quickly, his voice escalating, “I thought it was just a scrape, it didn’t – I –”  He started breathing fast and heavy, eyes darting, and he shook his head.

            “It’s OK,” Iris said, before he could say anything else, “it’s alright.  Cait will take care of it, it’s OK.”

            “No,” he said, face drawn with fear, “no, what –”  He turned a little, starting to tremble, his face scrunching up with panic.  “What does she have to do?  Caitlin – what, no, Iris, no, I can’t, I can’t do this, please –”

            “Shh, shh,” she said, taking both his shoulders now.  She took the mirror from him and set it down on the bed where he sat.  “It’s OK.  It’s going to be OK.”

            His breath was stuttering out, hitching, and there were tears in his eyes, his face completely panic stricken. “No, no, I – oh God, God, no, please, Iris, please, this isn’t – I didn’t realize – I didn’t think it was that bad, it’s – don’t touch it, please, please don’t touch, please, Cait, leave it.”  He let out a sob, his body wracking with it.

            “It’s OK,” Iris said, “Barry – Barry, look at me.  Just breathe.  It’s OK.  She hasn’t even started yet.  You’re OK.”

            “No, no, Iris, no, I can’t breathe –”

            “You can breathe fine,” Iris said, holding both his shoulders now to get him to stop fidgeting, trying to turn around.  “Just relax.  You’re OK.”

            He shook his head, his eyes darting around, movements frantic.  “Please, Iris,” he said.

            “Barry,” Caitlin said, placing a hand against his back gently.  “I’m going to flush the wound out with water, OK?  It might sting a little, but it’s just water.  It’s really not that bad, it’s just an abrasion – you scraped the top layer of skin off so it’s bleeding a lot and it looks bad, but I just need to wash it out and –”

            “No, no, no,” Barry said, squeezing his eyes shut.

            “Barry, she said she just has to wash it out,” Iris said gently.

            “No,” Barry said, his voice cracking.

            “Oh, Barry,” Iris said, watching as he started to cry panicked tears.  “Come here.”  She reached forward and wrapped her arms around him, carefully going under where the scrape on his back was.  He buried his head in her shoulder and Iris looked to Caitlin and nodded.

            When Caitlin’s hand shifted and Barry jolted, and Iris brought one hand up against the back of his head, holding him still and shushing him.  She started to clean out the wound with a syringe, flushing it out with water to get the debris.  He had gone skidding across a gravel parking lot stopping a robbery, and his suit had protected him from the worst of it, but he had some severe road rash where it tore.  He had tried to cover it up, but the blood had soaked through his shirt and Iris saw it when he tried to leave.

            “Shh,” Iris said, when Barry let out a surprised gasp at the water on his back.  He made a noise in his throat, scared, almost a whimper.  “Shh, it’s OK,” Iris said, “it’s OK, almost done.”  She held him still while Caitlin washed out the scrape, getting rid of any debris.

            “I’m going to sterilize it,” Caitlin said then, “it’s going to sting for a second, Barry.”

            “Wait,” Barry said, gasping, trying to get his head up, to squirm away but Iris had one arm around him and the other behind his head.

            “Breathe, Barry,” Iris said, “it’s OK.  I’m right here, just breathe.  Let Caitlin finish up.”

            He took in rasping breaths.  Iris shot a look at Eddie, who had his hand over Barry’s shoulder.  His face was pained, and Iris was sure she didn’t look better.

            “It’s OK, Bar,” Iris said, “over in a second.  You ready?”

            He let out a broken gasp for air, sucking in breath, but didn’t respond.

            “OK, Barry, on three, alright?  One, two – three,” Caitlin said.

            Barry yelled as a burning pain tore through his back, and then he felt bandages over him.

            “All done,” Caitlin said, “it’s all done, Barry.  I need you to let go of Iris for a second.”

            Iris disentangled him carefully, pushing him away just enough for Caitlin to get a bandage around his chest, tying it in place behind him.  He hissed when she tightened it.

            “Alright,” Iris said, reaching up to touch the back of his neck, rubbing gently, “it’s OK.  It’s all done.”

            Barry wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, sniffing, looking lost for a moment.

            “Barry,” Iris said, “can you breathe with me?  In and out?”  She mimicked a long breath and Barry copied her.  They kept going until he had calmed down, his breathing back to normal, and then he started shivering.

            He reached for the shirt, but Cisco stopped him, handed him a clean Star Labs sweatshirt instead.

            “Thanks,” he said, pulling it on.  He ducked his head afterwards, rubbed at his eyes with one hand.  “Sorry,” he said.

            “It’s OK,” Caitlin said, touching his shoulder for a moment.

            “I, um, I think I’ll go home,” he said, standing up.  His eyes were on the ground.

            “I’ll come with you,” Iris said, standing.

            “No, it’s fine – I think – I think I feel like a run.”

            Iris opened her mouth, but then he was gone.  Eddie came up behind her and she snapped her mouth closed.

            “He’ll be OK,” Eddie said, putting an arm around her waist.

            “Yeah,” Iris said, “Yeah, he’ll be OK.”

 

 

 

            When Barry gets back to the house he runs upstairs and changes into sweatpants, keeps the sweatshirt they gave him on.  He sits on his bed and wraps a blanket around his arms, trying to stifle the shivers that seem to start up whenever he gets scared.  It’s different from the trembling – he actually gets cold, and he wonders if it’s shock or if it’s PTSD or if the two can somehow be combined.  But he sits on the bed wrapped up in a blanket and breathes for a few minutes.  He’s just about to get up and grab his laptop, or a book or something, when the door opens.

            “Jesus fucking Christ,” Barry said, jumping backwards on the bed.

            “Language, Barry.”

            Leonard Snart stood in the doorway.

            “What – what are you doing here?” Barry asked, getting up off the bed.

            “There’s been a change in plans,” Snart said, stepping into the room, looking around.

            “And you couldn’t just call?  Or _knock?_ ”

            “Texting an address is one thing – phone lines can be tapped and I don’t really want to have an entire conversation on them.”

            “That still doesn’t explain the knocking,” Barry said, but Len ignored him, kept looking around, “or the breaking and entering.  You know Joe’s a cop, right?”

            “Detective West – yes, I am aware.”

            “So what’s this change in plans?” Barry asked, rubbing a hand down his face.  He felt weary, absolutely not up to this right now.

            “Mardon’s left the city,” Snart said.

            Barry frowned.  “He left?”

            “Seems he’s headed east, most likely towards New York City or Boston.”

            “Alright,” Barry said.  Well that presented problems for him, but, “so why do you care anymore, if he’s leaving the city?”

            Snart’s jaw clenched.  “He took something that’s mine.”

            Barry frowned.  “He took something?”

            “Yes.”

            “What?”

            “None of your concern, Scarlet.”

            Barry frowned.  “Well what’s the change in plans then?”

            “Change in plans is that you and I are taking a trip.”

            “I can’t carry anyone that far,” Barry said.

            “We’ll have to knock him out.  You still have that magic stick that sucks out his power?”

            “Yeah,” Barry said, wondering briefly how he even knew about the weather wand that should and did neutralize Mardon’s powers.

            “Bring it along.  We’re going on a road trip.”


	6. Language, Scarlet, Really

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go after Mardon... with varying success.

The plan did not actually end up changing all that much.  Snart took off that night for New York City, following the trail that Mardon left, driving a car this time and not the customary motorcycle.  Barry, as he pointedly reminded Snart, had a day job.  So Snart took off and Barry got a text three days later with an address in Vermont.

            “I thought you said you were going to knock him out,” Barry said, whispering from behind the building.

            “I was, but that plan involved an old friend who owed me one and is good with poison.”

            “You were going to poison him?”

            “I was going to roofie him.”

            “Then what do you need him for?  Aren’t you a master criminal or something?  Can’t you just go spike his drink?”

            “Yes, Flash, I could, except if he sees me near his drink he’s never going to take a sip – we needed someone who he didn’t _know_.  Which is why you’re here.”

            Snart turned to him then and Barry gave him an incredulous look.  “He knows me.”

            Snart rolled his eyes.  “Yes, genius, he knows you, but if he can’t see you then it doesn’t really matter.”  He pulled out something from his pocket and then deposited it into Barry’s hand.  Snart smiled at him.

            Barry looked down to find two white tablets.  “You want _me_ to roofie him?”

            Snart frowned at him.  “No Flash, _I’m_ going to do it, because _I_ have the ability to move so fast no one will notice me.”

            Barry scowled, and then closed his hand around the tablets.  He sped into the bar and dropped the tablets in Mardon’s drink, so fast there was barely a blur.

            “Alright, done,” Barry said.  “How long until it works?”

            “Not long,” Snart said, watching through the side window.

            About twenty minutes later Mardon stumbled out of the bar.  He started walking away, down towards what looked like an old construction plant.  Snart followed him, not looking back, and Barry had to jog to catch up.

            “Watch him,” Snart said, turning around when Mardon stopped, pulling out his phone.  “I’m going to grab the car.”

            “Wait, are –” Barry started, but he was gone.  Barry sighed and turned back, watching Mardon from behind another building.  He looked drunk, but not terribly incapacitated.  Barry wondered if the dosage was high enough, and then figured Snart probably knew how to drug someone correctly.  And then he thought about that for a second and shuddered.

            But then Mardon shoved the phone back into his pocket, and started back the way he had come.  Barry blinked and looked around, scrambling for a new hiding place.  And then he realized that if Mardon walked back he would go directly back into the town center, a much more public place.  Here they were alone, but if Mardon passed out in the middle of the street they were going to have a very difficult time convincing the good citizens of the town they were in that they were definitely not kidnapping the man now unconscious on the ground.

            So Barry stepped out from behind the building, and flashed both him and Mardon back to the edge of the construction plant, out of sight.

            But instead of looking dazed and uncomprehending, when Barry moved back, Mardon’s eyes were right on him.

            “Flash,” he said, and it was a mix of surprise and anger, and his hands clenched and Barry only had the time to think _oh shit_ , and then a white hot pain was burning through him.

            A crack of thunder followed that Barry didn’t register.  His vision had gone black and when it came back Mardon was staring down at him. 

            Barry closed his eyes and groaned.  He tried to move, and found that he was met with stabbing pain when he did.  He was having trouble breathing, his chest feeling like it was on fire, collapsing in on him, and he was struggling not to let the dizziness take over.

            “What are you doing so far from Central City?” the Weather Wizard asked, smirking now.

            Barry clenched his teeth, but he couldn’t get a word out.  It was worse than the time he’d gotten hit when Cold broke all the metas out.  Either Mardon was getting stronger or he made a more direct hit.

            “What’s the matter, nothing to say now?” Mardon asked.  “Too bad.”  He moved and Barry couldn’t see him any longer.

            “Nothing personal, kid,” Mardon said, and Barry felt a chill go up his spine.  He tried to move his head so he could see, but he couldn’t lift it more than a few inches off the ground.  “Just really much better for me with you out of the picture.”

            Barry sucked in a breath, felt a flash of all over fear, that cold adrenaline spike, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t move and –

            A sudden and blinding pain crashed through his leg and he heard the bone snap just as a scream tore from his throat.  But at the same time he heard another noise, a few other noises, the primary one being a scream from Mardon.

            “You roofied the wrong drink!”

            There was a growl from Mardon and Barry clutched at his leg, writhed on the ground as it burned in pain.  He heard the cold gun fire, and then saw the flash of white, a few flashes of white.  There was another scream that was definitely not Snart. 

            “You had _one_ job, Red.”  There were a few more blasts.  “And some poor lawyer is out cold being hauled into an ambulance.”

            Barry heard some more shouts, a couple of taunts from Cold aimed at Mardon, and then there was a bang and a series of thuds.  He heard some more noise, the sound of the car being moved, and then Snart was crouched next to him, scowling.

            “You really did it this time, Flash,” Snart said.  He looked down and swore.  “You need a hospital, Scarlet.”

            Barry’s heart rate picked up and he shook his head, gasping.  “Can’t.  I – I heal too fast.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Snart said, sounding superbly annoyed by the understanding.  He clenched his teeth and looked up, as if thinking.  “Alright, we have to move you.  Cops will be here soon – they would have heard the gun.  This is going to hurt.” 

            And with that there was an arm under Barry’s back and he was being hauled up with a tight, “Agh!” ripped out of his mouth.  He bit back a yell as his legs buckled, the pain eating away at him.  His leg was agony and his eyes were watering, head spinning.  He let out muffled yells and screams as Snart mostly carried him to the car.

            Barry focused on breathing as his leg throbbed, and every time the car hit a bump he’d bite down and try not to scream.  He couldn’t look at it, the mess that was his leg.  There was blood everywhere, and it was broken, he knew it was broken, and there was ice there too, in it, around it, melting and still there.  Snart had a van and Barry was lying down in the back next to the unconscious Mardon.

            “How you doing back there?” Snart yelled.

            Barry wanted to kill him.

            “We’re stopping at a motel – I’m going to check in then I’ll come back and sneak you in through the back, OK?”

            Barry groaned and leaned his head back.  The whole drive was a blur.  Barry’s hands were covered in blood – it had soaked through his jeans, gotten all over his shirt.  Cold had shoved a blanket on top of it, but when he tried to tie it up Barry had screamed so loud that he left it.  It wasn’t doing much to stem the blood flow though.

            Snart was back in a few minutes, and Barry vaguely registered him tying up Mardon more securely, forcing something down his throat even while unconscious, and then covering him with a blanket.  Then he was next to Barry, getting him up, making him move, and Barry did not want to move, and then he was wrapping his parka around him and there were stairs.

            Snart looked at Barry, and Barry looked at Snart.

            “No.”

            Snart sighed.

            “ _No_.”

            Len took a step forward.

            “Cold,” Barry said as Snart took another step towards him and Barry stumbled back, “Cold, _Snart_ , no, _agh!_ ”  Snart picked him up, bridal style, and Barry yelled and hit him because god dammnit that hurt, that was his _leg_ he was grabbing, and Barry was going to throw up.  “Put me down!”  He whacked his hand down on Snart’s head until Snart hissed, but he didn’t say anything.  “Snart, that – agh, let go, let go, that hurts!”

            Leonard ignored him and finished carrying Barry up the stairs before putting him down again, letting him hobble with an arm over his shoulder the rest of the way to the room.  When they finally got in Barry collapsed down on the bed.

            Barry closed his eyes and let out a groan.  His leg was still in an excruciating amount of pain, but at least he was horizontal and _not_ _moving_.

            And then he felt hands on the buttons of his jeans.

            Barry jolted upwards, hands wrapping around Snart’s wrists, his eyes wide.  “What – what the fuck are you doing?”

            “Getting you out of those pants,” Snart said, glaring and prying Barry’s hands off of him, “unless you’d rather have the fabric become a permanent part of your leg.”

            Barry tensed and pushed Len’s hands away, undoing the button and zipper himself.  He clenched his teeth and let out a frustrated noise when his hands were shaking so much he couldn’t get them open.

            “You finished?” Cold asked, dead pan, “Your pride ready to accept help now?”

            Barry’s face flushed red and he gave up, moving his hands and letting his head thud back onto the bed.  He tried not to squirm as he felt Snart undoing his pants (and yeah that was awkward as hell to think about) and lifted his hips when he went to slide them down.  When he got to his thighs it was another matter, and Barry’s breath hitched as he froze, the pain crushing.

            “Just stay still,” Snart said, “I’ll get it.”  He started to carefully tug Barry’s jeans down around the wound, and Barry groaned at the pain, biting down hard and turning his head sharply to one side.  Snart’s movements turned even slower but every brush of fabric, every jolt was excruciating.  Barry squeezed his eyes shut, a whine coming up his throat, hard and awful sounding.

            Snart finally got it over his leg and was pulling them off.  Barry let out a relieved sigh, taking in long breaths.  And then Snart moved over on the bed, and Barry heard the click of something being opened.

            Barry’s eyes snapped open and he leaned upwards, looking as he spotted Snart with a first aid kit opened up, a washcloth in his hand.

            Barry froze.  No, no, no.  Not again, no.  He looked down frantically at the wound as Snart put a hand just above his knee, holding him still.

            “Wait,” Barry said, “wait, we should – we should wait until Caitlin can look at it – she knows how my body heals – I should – I should wait for Caitlin to take –”

            “Barry, we’re in Vermont,” Snart said, his face impassive, “we’re hours away by car, and you’re not running anywhere.  I’m not a doctor, but I can stitch a couple cuts.”

            Barry’s face paled and Len realized at the last second what he said, mentally cursed himself.

            “Just relax,” he said, holding out his hands, hoping that would help, “I’m just going to clean it up a little – see what we’re dealing with.”

            Barry whimpered and at another time Len might have snickered, but coupled with the panicked, pain filled gaze the kid was eyeing him with, it just made his stomach turn.

            “Lie back,” Snart said, pushing down on Barry’s chest, and Barry shuddered.  Snart moved around a second, and then pushed a couple pillows under Barry’s shoulders so he was inclined just enough to see what Snart was doing.

            “Just cleaning,” Snart said, holding up the cloth again.  Barry bit his lip and nodded and let out a low whine when Snart touched his leg with the cloth.  He wiped away the blood there, which had already started to clot over.  Barry squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.

            “This hurts,” Barry ground out as Snart moved the cloth over his skin.  It was horribly rough on the wounds.  “Snart – Cold, please, easy.”

            “I’m being as gentle as I can, Scarlet,” Snart said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but it leaked away as Barry gasped.

            “Please – slower, please, Snart.”

            Leonard observed the wound.  For starters, there was a deep gash.  It needed stitches, and this time it was going to need quite a few.  Blood was still oozing out, although it had already clotted and scabbed in some places.  But it was going to leave a nasty scar, maybe even nerve damage, if he didn’t stitch it up properly and soon.  Then there was the fact that the bone was broken underneath.  Mardon had drove an ice piece into him.  It had been aimed at his chest, but Len had managed to hit him with a blast from the cold gun at the last second, knocking him off target.  Now there were ice fragments embedded in his skin.  This wasn’t going to be fun.

            “W-what are you doing?”

            Snart ignored him and tied the rope in a knot just above his knee.  He strung the rope around and quickly tied it on both sides to the bedframe.

            “Snart,” Barry said, and his voice had gone shrill, “No – what – what are you doing?  Don’t – what is that?”  His voice was high and panicked, and he was trying to sit up, fighting to lean forward enough to get a better look.  His eyes were wide and his face pale.  “No,” Barry said, reaching for the rope around his knee.  “No, no, no, I’m not – you’re not – what are you doing?  Let me go, what –”

            “Scarlet,” Snart said, grabbing Barry’s wrist before he could untie the knot there.

            “Let go of me,” Barry said, and he was trembling all over, terrified.  “Let me go.”

            “Scarlet,” Snart said, gentler this time.  He kept a hold on his wrist though, not letting go.  “If I had wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already.  I’m taking care of your leg.  You need to relax, lie back down, and focus on breathing and staying still.”

            Barry shook his head.  “What are you doing – why are you tying me up – I –”

            “I need to take care of your leg,” Snart said, “it’s going to hurt, and I need you to stay still.”

            The shaking kept going, and Snart closed his eyes, tried to think of something to make the kid calm down a little.  “Look, Scarlet, just lie back down.  It’ll be over soon.”

            Wrong choice.  Len watched as Barry’s face paled more, his head shaking furiously.  “No,” he said, looking down now, fighting to get his hands free, “no, I’m fine – it’s fine.  Untie me.  It’ll be fine – I heal fast, it’ll be fine.”

            “Only if you let me take care of it,” Snart said.

            Barry trembled, his eyes going from Snart to the rope to the mess of his leg, and the blood – there was so much blood.  He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.  He wanted so badly to be home, to have Iris there holding his hand and Joe talking to him – he wanted Caitlin, wanted his friends and family and he was terrified and Captain Cold had just tied him to a bed.

            “You can’t tie me down,” Barry burst.

            “Scarlet –”

            “You can’t tie me down, they tied me down, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see or talk or move, you can’t tie me down, please.”

            And Len was quiet.  When he looked up again Barry was pleading, his face drawn tight, eyes wet, still terribly pale.

            “Alright, kid, just the one leg, OK?  Gonna put a strap down over your waist, and that’ll be it, OK?  You’re gonna have to stay still for me, though.”

            “I’ll stay still,” Barry said desperately, inching away as Len approached with more rope, “I’ll stay still, please, I’ll keep my leg still.”

            “You’re going to move involuntarily,” Snart said, sure that Barry didn’t have the pain tolerance or the control right now to keep himself still.  

            “I won’t,” Barry said, struggling a little bit as Snart secured the rope on the other side.  He tightened it down.  “Ah, ow,” Barry said, cringing as the rope bit into his lower stomach, “that hurts.”

            Snart ignored him.  The rope wouldn’t be ideal, but it would keep him from flashing away if he got overwhelmed, and it would help steady the leg for Len to work on.

            “You’ve got some ice fragments in there,” Snart said, taking out a pair of tweezers, “I’m going to get those out first.”  He didn’t want the kid healing around them.  He had no idea what would happen if they somehow melted inside his skin.

            Barry cringed.  Snart heard his breathing pick up.

            “Lie back,” he said, pushing down on his chest again until Barry was flat against the bed.  Len moved the pillows again so he wasn’t as propped up.

            “I want to see,” Barry said, but Len pulled a pillow out from under him anyway.

            “No you don’t,” Snart said, “Your job right now is to focus on keeping calm and staying still.”

            “I’d do both better if you untied me,” Barry said, irritated.

            Len snorted.  “Sure you would.  Just relax – lie back and breathe.”  Len heard a trembling breath shake out as he wiped away more blood from the area so he could see.  “Slower,” he said, “deep breaths, Scarlet.”

            “Agh!”  He yelled instead as Snart pulled free a piece of ice with the tweezers.  He let it drop to the ground. 

            Snart pulled out another piece and got another yell.  This time his body went rigid, all tensed up, and he arched his leg, trying to move away – but it was still broken and not responding the way it should.

            Snart saw the tip of an ice piece and went for it, digging in to the meat of his leg to reach.  It was a sickening job, and it had Snart’s stomach turning. 

            “God fucking damnit,” Barry swore, jerking his leg.  Snart’s hand came down on him, pinning it in place.  He writhed on the bed, eyes screwed shut.  “God fucking – that – _shit_ damn mother fucker – that fucking _hurts!_ ”

            Snart clicked his tongue.  “Language, Scarlet, really.”

            “Shut up, you – God, ah, damnit, _damnit_ , it hurts.”  His voice had tapered off into a whimper, squirming on the bed from the pain.

            “Easy, Scarlet,” Len said, holding down his leg more firmly.  It made Barry gasp.

            “Shit, ease up – Cold, please, n- agh, not so – not so hard.”

            “You need to stay still,” Snart said, not letting up.  Barry was practically bucking out of the grip, writhing.

            “But it – fuck, please, that hurts.”

            “You’re not staying still, so I have to hold you still.”

            “I-it hurts,” Barry said, still trying to get away.  His movements were turning frantic.

            “Barry, you have to stay still,” Snart said, his voice hard, “I’m not going to let go until you stop moving.”

            “Fuck you,” Barry said, a growl that turned into a groan.  “Fuck, just – please, hurts.  It’s – the bone – God, I can’t – I c-can’t breathe.  Just – come on, please, just – just ease up, please, just ease up, it hurts, it really hurts.”

            Snart just sighed.  Barry’s breath turned ragged, catching and hitching as he gasped.  “Snart,” he said, and the name was dragged from his mouth in a cry of pain, “Snart, please.”  Barry was pulling away, fighting with him so much Len actually had to stop to hold his leg with his other hand as well, and Barry screamed.

            “Fuck – fucking bastard, Cold, stop – _stop_ ,” Barry yelled.  Tears burned in his eyes.  Len held him still and stopped talking.  He let Barry yell and swear and curse him and struggle as much as he wanted, until he was exhausted from it, finally lying still, panting for breath.

            Then Snart proceeded with getting the rest of the ice out, and Barry whimpered and groaned every time he touched a piece of ice.  He made little clawing motions with his hands, fisting the sheets and tearing at them, but his leg kept relatively still.

            “Alright,” Snart said, “I got the ice out.  Barry?”

            Barry’s eyes opened.  “Can we stop now?” he asked.  His voice was raw, rough from crying and yelling.

            Snart’s mouth tightened.  “Not quite yet, Scarlet.”

            Barry’s eyes shut again.

            “I’m going to set the bone, Scarlet.”

            Len waited for a reaction, but all he got was a whimper and some trembling.  He moved around to Barry’s side, and braced his hands on his leg.  The bone was crushed out of place.  He slipped a hand under Barry’s thigh.

            “Barry?”

            “Mmhm?”

            “I need you to take a deep breath for me, OK, kid?”

            Barry shuddered.  He started shaking worse.

            “Can you do that for me?”

            He didn’t get an answer.

            “Ready?  I want you to take a deep breath in right now.”

            Len watched, and he saw Barry shudder, and then take a long breath in, his chest rising.

            Len snapped the bone into place.

            Barry screamed.  He lurched upwards, and Len threw up a hand, stopped him.  Barry grabbed at his wrist then, jerking Len forward so much that he almost lost balance.  Barry’s back hit the bed hard, and then he was turning, curling to one side and then the other.  He gagged and spat bile onto the side of the bed, almost choking himself on it.

            “Easy, easy,” Len said, moving to hold his shoulders instead of his leg, before he hurt himself.  “It’s done, it’s over.  Relax.”

            But Barry didn’t seem to hear him.  He was turning again and again, thrashing from side to side.  At first it was all just cries of pain and groans, but then he started to form words.

            “No, no, no, no.”  Barry had his eyes open, but they were glazed over, staring at nothing, even as Len put a hand on the side of his head, holding it still.  His eyes wouldn’t focus on him, weren’t focusing on anything.  “Stop, no, no, I can’t see, I can’t see, please, you have to stop, you have to stop, please – let me go, you’re hurting me, l-let me go, please – please, I’m sorry, please it hurts.”

            “Barry,” Snart said, but it didn’t seem he heard him.  “Barry?”

            “Please let me go,” Barry said, “please, I just want to go home, you’re hurting me – I can feel – can feel everything you do, please, stop, please.  Don’t – don’t, please, I’m sorry, please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m –”

            “Barry!” Snart yelled.  “Barry Allen.  Listen to me.  You hear me?”

            And Barry nodded blankly, his eyes still unfocused, his body trembling, tears running down the sides of his face.

            “It’s Leonard Snart,” Len said, “It’s Leonard Snart and you’re in a motel room and you got hurt by Mardon.  You’re OK.  Scarlet, listen to me, you’re OK.  You need to breathe.  Breathe for me – deep breaths, in and out, count to eight.  Come on, just breathe.  You’re OK, you’re OK.”

            Barry started to breathe in as Snart counted, and a minute later his eyes focused on Len.  His vision came back in a wave of black dots, spotty and then returning.  It felt surreal, and Barry was blinking back the memories, realizing they were only memories, but it had felt real, it had felt so fucking real and he was shaking bad and crying.

            “It’s alright,” Snart said, “keep taking deep breaths.  The bone’s back in place.  It’s all done.  You’re not there, Scarlet.  You’re in a motel room in Vermont.  You’re fine.  You’re not there.”

            “I’m not there,” Barry mumbled.  His head was swimming, foggy.  “I thought… I couldn’t see.”

            “A panic attack,” Snart said, “or a flash back.  You couldn’t see there?”

            “No…” Barry said, and he closed his eyes for a second, suddenly dizzy.  “They had me blindfolded… I thought I was there – it felt like – felt like I was there.”

            “You’re not – it’s OK now.”

            “I’m sorry,” Barry mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

            “It’s OK, Scarlet,” Len said, his voice quiet and frowning.

            “It really hurts,” Barry said, his voice tight, and he whimpered again.

            “I know, Scarlet – I have to do something and then you’ll be all set, OK?  You can get some sleep.”

            “It hurts,” Barry said again with a tremor, “it always hurts.  They’d come in and I couldn’t see, but I could hear them coming and I’d – I’d”  Barry’s eyes were slipping again and for a moment Snart held his breath, sure the kid was going to pass out, but then the dazed look came again and Snart’s hope turned to worry.

            “Scarlet, stay with me,” Snart said.

            Barry shuddered.  “Can’t see,” he mumbled, “C-cold?”

            “I’m right here, kid.”

            “Can’t see.”

            “Well why don’t you just close your eyes then.”

            Barry’s eyes shut.  He trembled some more.  “My leg hurts,” he said, his voice quiet, too high.  “It – they broke the same l-leg.  Before.  And it – it h-hurt so much.  It hurt so badly – they wouldn’t stop, just – over and over again, re-breaking it, but this – this hurts more, Snart, it – it’s burning and I can feel it trying to heal and it – it’s too much, it’s so bad, it hurts so bad, I can’t do it.”

            “Easy, Scarlet,” Snart said softly, rubbing a hand up and down his leg while fishing through the first aid kid.  “Easy, it’ll heal soon.”

            He was hiccupping out sobs now.  “I’d – I’d do anything to make it stop, God, fuck, it – hurts, so bad.”

            “I know, Barry, take a deep breath now.”

            Barry inhaled, but it was too sharp, still too fast, too shallow.  It came out shaking, and ended in a gasp.

            “Scarlet,” Snart said, and he readjusted his grip, holding down Barry’s leg at his hip with one hand, and placing the other on his arm.  Barry erupted into tremors at the change and Snart started rubbing his arm gently, trying to get him to calm down.  “I have to put in some stitches,” Snart said carefully.

            Barry let out another sob.  “Fuck, that – Snart, that’s…”  He started shaking so fast he started to vibrate.

            “Easy, Scarlet,” Snart said again, his eyes widening at the vibrations.  “Easy, calm down.  It won’t take me long, and then I’ll be done – no more.  It won’t hurt too bad, I promise.”

            “Liar,” Barry said, and let out another cry.  His mouth was a wavering line now, tears dripping out and down his skin.  “J-just do it.  Do it now.  Get it – fuck…”  He looked like he had been trying to say more, but he gave up halfway through, crying with another half-sob, turning his head sharply to one side.

            “Alright, Scarlet, just try and hold still for me – it’ll be done faster if you do.”  Snart gave his arm one last comforting pat, and then moved down, bracing Barry’s leg with one hand and pulling out the needle and line with the other.

            Barry let out a muffled cry when Snart started.  He brought one arm up over his eyes, and then switched and used it to cover his mouth, muffling the noise as he made more whimpers and cries of pain.  Snart made fast, small stitches, precise.  He was about a third of the way up when he looked up.  Barry had gone silent, and when he looked he had the side of his arm in his mouth, biting down on his own skin.

            “Barry,” Snart said, closing his eyes for a moment.  He moved up and reached over and pulled Barry’s arm away.  There was a big red mark where he had bit down, but he hadn’t broken skin.  Barry turned away from Snart when he went closer, and he kept his eyes shut.  He whimpered when Snart reached a hand down, almost touching his face before he froze.

            “Scarlet, it’s just me,” Snart said, “you with me?  It’s Cold.  It’s Leonard Snart, remember?  Do you want something to bite down on?”

            Barry shook his head frantically, eyes open again, seemed to almost focus on Len for a second, and then went glazed.

            “Alright, well don’t bite yourself then,” Snart said, “you can scream, it’s OK.  If it hurts, you can yell.  You don’t have to try and be quiet, just still for me.”

            Barry let out a breath, and the words seemed to confuse him for a moment, then there was a little bit of surprise, and Snart wondered not for the first time if they had made him be quiet as well.

            Barry started to yell with every stitch, and as horrendous and nerve-grating as the noise was, he could see the kid relaxing, releasing some of the tension stuck in his limbs.  But then Snart kept going, and he could see the ordeal taking its toll. 

            “Sn-snart, wait, wait, stop,” Barry said, when Snart was about three quarters of the way done.

            Snart paused.  “What is it, kid?” he asked.

            “Give –” Barry let out a shuddering breath, “give me a minute, I – just a minute.”  Snart paused and let him breathe, gave him a break.  After a minute Barry spoke again, his voice coming out small this time, quiet.  “I – I still can’t see.”  It was a scared voice, the sound like a child.

            “It’ll come back,” Snart said.

            “I feel like I’m there.”  Barry’s voice was a whisper.  He started to shake again.

            “Scarlet, you can’t vibrate right now,” Snart said, a hard edge to his voice, looking down at the careful stitches he was sure would break.  “You need to relax, Barry – the stitches will tear and I’ll have to start all over again.”

            That seemed to make it worse for a moment, the panic at the thought, and then Barry started visibly trying to calm down.

            “I – I can’t,” he said, panicking more at the realization, “I – Snart, what – I can’t, I can’t.”

            “Deep breaths,” Snart said, “you were doing fine, just breathe, Barry.”

            “OK, OK,” Barry said, taking in lungfuls of air.

            “That’s it,” Snart said.  “You ready to start again?”

            Barry tensed up.  “No,” he said, his voice squeaked out.

            “Scarlet –”

            But Barry was shaking again, shaking bad, threatening to turn into vibrations.

            “Scarlet, you need to relax,” Snart said.

            “I can’t,” Barry said, “I can’t when you – I can’t with you – with you… doing, that.”

            “Scarlet –”

            “Hold my hand,” Barry blurted out, and Snart blinked.  Barry’s face immediately flushed red.  “Please, Cold, just – it – it really helps, and I – I can’t breathe, I can’t calm down and I don’t – I don’t want them to tear, please, I –”

            Snart took his hand, reaching for the closest one.  His hand was clammy and sweaty, but it squeezed around Snart’s immediately, and Barry let out a breath.  Snart squeezed back, a little reassurance, and Barry’s breathing steadied a bit, the shaking got better.

            “I need you to hold real still,” Snart said after a moment, his voice gentle, but with a warning in it too.  “I can’t hold your leg like this, so you need to hold still for me.”

            Barry nodded and so Snart gave his hand another squeeze and made the next stitch.  Barry jumped a little bit, hand tightening to almost painful, and a yell coming out of his mouth.

            “You’re doing fine,” Snart said, “but you need to keep still better than that.  Take another deep breath.  Yell if you need to – squeeze down on my hand, but keep your leg still.”

            Barry took in a shaky breath and nodded, and the next stitch was better, even if it got a louder yell.  Snart finished the rest as quickly as he could, having to stop longer now for Barry to collect himself and keep still for him.

            “Alright,” Snart said, letting go of Barry’s hand and finishing off the line.  “It’s all done – that’s all done.  Can you take one more deep breath for me?”

            “Wh-” Barry started, but Snart interrupted him.

            “Just take in one more deep breath, Scarlet.”

            So Barry did, scared, and Snart washed rubbing alcohol over the wound, disinfecting it.  Barry arched and screamed, and then collapsed backwards, panting, mumbling, shaking/

            “Easy, easy, I know – I know that hurts – it stings like a bitch, I know – it’s all done now.  I’m finished.  I’m just gonna wrap it up, Scarlet.”  And he started to do that.  He took the shower curtain rod from the bathroom and then broke it in half and used it as a splint.  Barry edged away from him and whined the whole time, but he wrapped it up.  At the end Barry looked absolutely exhausted.

            “Here,” Snart said, uncapping a water bottle, “you should have some water.”

            Barry took it, propping himself up a little, holding the bottle with a shaky hand.  He downed half of it in one go, and then handed it back.

            “You should eat something too,” Snart said.  He was already shuffling through the contents of his bag.

            “No,” Barry mumbled.  He had his eyes closed, head down on the pillow.

            “Just something small,” Len said.

            “I’ll throw up.”

            “No you won’t,” Len said, finding a protein bar in his bag and pulling it out.  “Here, just eat this, then I’ll leave you alone.”

            Barry turned his head to the other side and Len let out an exasperated noise.

            “Barry,” he said.

            “Don’t want it.”

            “I don’t care.  You’re eating it.”

            “No.”

            “Barry.”

            “No.”

            “Scarlet.”

            “I don’t want it.”

            “You sound like a two year old, now eat the damn protein bar before I shove it down your ungrateful throat.”

            Barry scowled at him but finally pushed himself up enough to take it.  He chewed angrily.

            “So you can see now?”

            Barry blinked, froze, then looked at Snart.  He blushed red again.  “Yeah, I – yeah, sorry about – sorry.”

            Snart didn’t say anything, just nodded.  “How’s it feel?”

            “Hurts so much I think I’m gonna pass out,” Barry mumbled, “wish I would pass out.”

            Snart took the wrapper from Barry’s hand as he finished the bar.  “Just try and get some sleep.  It’ll feel better once you wake up.”

            “Yeah,” Barry said, settling down, wincing even as he did that.  “Um, thanks,” he said, mumbled as he turned his head slightly, eyeing him with an anxious expression.

            “It’s fine,” Snart said, “sleep.  You look like hell.”

            “Thanks,” Barry said, but it came out dry.  He closed his eyes, but opened them a moment later, restless.  Snart moved over to the other bed in the room and lay down.  It was late, and he was exhausted.


	7. Push Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry can't sleep.

Snart stared at the ceiling in the dark room, just enough light coming in through the window for him to see the fan spinning.  He lay on the bed and counted: … eight, nine, ten eleven –

The rustle of sheets from the bed next to him.  One, two, three, four –

Another rustle.  One, two –

“Snart?”

Len sighed.

“Yeah, kid?”

“D-do you have another blanket?”

Snart frowned.  “You’re cold?”

“Yeah.”

Snart sighed again and got up.  He pulled the blanket off his own bed and walked over to the other.  He threw it down and then made sure it was covering Barry’s legs fine as Barry pulled it up to his chin.

“Thanks,” Barry said, and he was shivering.

Snart frowned, and then there was a hand on Barry’s forehead and he jerked backwards.

“You’re warm,” Snart said, drawing back again, “I think you’re running a fever.”

Barry shook his head.  “My temperature’s higher – everything going faster.”

Len still frowned.  “You shouldn’t be cold it’s warm in here.”

“I’m always cold,” Barry said.

“You just said you run hot.”

“I know, but I… I just get cold a lot.”

Snart shrugged and walked back to his own bed, lying down.  He didn’t miss the blanket.  He was plenty warm with only a sheet.

Snart closed his eyes started counting again.  …twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three –

“Snart?”

Len let out a long breath.  “Yes, Scarlet?”

“Do – do you have any Advil?  Or Tylenol, or – or something?”

“Your leg bothering you?”  He started to sit up.

“It – it’s healing I – it burns – itchy – when it heals, and it’s still… it just fucking hurts a lot.”

“Thought medications didn’t work on you,” Snart said, already getting up and going back to the first aid kit.

“Well, they don’t – or, they haven’t, but I’ve never – I’ve never actually tried taking pain pills, so maybe – just, I’ll just take the whole box, whatever you have.”

“You’re going to wind up killing yourself,” Snart said, shaking his head.  “Here, I’ve got some ice packs.”

“No.”

His answer came so fast and so clipped that Snart paused.  “It’ll help,” he said.

“No, it’s fine – I – just the pain pills.”

“I’m not giving you the pain pills, Scarlet,” Snart said, “you’ll either just overdose on them or it won’t do anything.  If that doctor you have has never given them to you before than I’m sure she knows they won’t work.”

“Just – just let me try it,” Barry said, “please, Snart, it – anything, please.”

“No pain pills,” Snart said, “I’ll get you some ice packs.  They’ll help with the pain.”

“No, Snart, no ice packs, they’ll just – I’m already cold, I don’t want ice.”

“Regardless of whether you’re warm or not, ice on your leg will help,” Snart said.  He walked back towards Barry, who was propped up on his elbows again.  Snart reached for the blanket and sat on the edge of the bed, moving the two blankets aside and placing an ice pack over the main bandaged part of his leg.

Barry hissed and jolted away.

“Scarlet,” Snart said, exasperated and annoyed.  He was tired, it was late, and he wanted to go to bed.  “I’m trying to help you here, but you’re making it very difficult.”

“I don’t want ice,” Barry said, short, clipped, “I don’t want ice – just – the pain pills, please, if it doesn’t do anything then it doesn’t do anything, but let me try –”

“I’m not giving you any pain pills.  End of discussion.  Stop asking.  I have ice packs, and they’ll help, now suck it up Flash and let me put them down.”

“I don’t want ice,” Barry said, “I’m freaking freezing already, I don’t want any ice – fine, don’t give me the pills, but I don’t want –”

“Too bad,” Snart said, using more bandage and surgical tape to strap the ice to his leg, one over where the open wound was, the other underneath his thigh.  “I’m not listening to you whine all night – it’ll help with the swelling anyway, should have put it on earlier to begin with.”

“I don’t want the ice,” Barry said, yelling now.

“I don’t care,” Snart said, finishing it off and throwing the blanket back over Barry’s leg.  “You’re getting it anyway.”  He went back to his own bed and lay down, turning over and away from Barry.

He heard a lot of rustling and ignored it, counting in his head, trying to get his body to relax enough to sleep.  And then the rustling got louder and there was a ripping sound and Snart jumped up.

“Are you taking the damn things off?” he asked.  Barry froze, his eyes wide, staring back, a deer in the headlights look.  Snart stared.  “For the love of –”  He walked back over, tore Barry’s hand away, and secured the ice back onto his leg.  “It stays on,” Snart said, holding out a finger, a warning in his voice.  Barry just stared back, still wide eyed.  Snart lay back down in bed.

More rustling, then a sniff.  Snart closed his eyes.  If that kid started crying again… He heard a little hitched breath, and then a lot more rustling.  Len didn’t understand how he could be making so much noise – he was lying on his back and couldn’t turn to his stomach or his side with his leg in its condition, but there it was, more rustling noises, more little sounds of discomfort.

“Scarlet,” Snart said, his voice a low growl.

Barry didn’t respond, just moved some more.  The ice was a burning cold on his leg and he wanted it gone, it was a discomfort on top of the pain.  He couldn’t get into a good position, his back aching, and he felt strung tight as a wire from the ordeal.  His leg hurt, a pulsing pain that was burning and throbbing, and impossible to ignore.  He didn’t think he’d ever fall asleep, but the idea of lying there in the itchy burning pain for another six hours or so was horrifying.

“If you don’t stop moving I’m going to hit you over the head until –”

“Do it,” Barry said.

“Scarlet –”

“Why don’t you just do it – I’m never going to sleep like this anyway – knock me out – go ahead.  I don’t care.”

“I’m not giving you a concussion on top of everything else, Flash,” Snart said.

“Why not,” Barry grumbled.

“The pain really that bad you can’t sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Well stop moving so much, some of us will have to drive in the morning.”

Barry let out a long sigh and then lay still.  He managed that for all of thirty seconds before he couldn’t help it and started squirming again.

“Scarlet.”

“It hurts,” Barry said, clipped again.  “I’m sorry my pain is disturbing you.”

“Don’t be over-dramatic,” Snart said.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“You were being annoying is what you were being.”

Barry was quiet again.  But he started shivering then, couldn’t help it.  He pulled the blankets up on top of him, but with the ice it was making it worse.

“Flash, seriously –”

“I can’t help it, I’m cold.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, it has to be ninety degrees under those blankets.”

“I’m just cold,” Barry snapped.

“You have to be sick,” Snart said, shaking his head.  He started to get up again.  “I’m taking another look at that leg.  Maybe you’re getting an infection.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not the leg,” Barry said quickly.

“Scarlet, you’re shivering under two –”

“I get cold after I have panic attacks,” Barry said, rushed.

Snart paused, halfway sitting up on the bed.  “You get cold after you have panic attacks?”

“Y-yes,” Barry said, feeling his face heat up.

Snart was quiet for a long moment.  “Because they kept you somewhere cold?”

Barry shuddered.  “Yeah.  Cold.  It was… it was freezing.  All the time.  I think – they probably did it because of my powers – I don’t – I don’t run well cold.”

Snart nodded, thinking about it.  “And now you get cold when you have medical procedures performed on you.”

Barry shuddered again.  “Yeah, or, just… just when, when I get nervous.  In general.”

“Alright,” Snart said, “that why you don’t want the ice packs?”

“Yeah,” Barry said, “look, Cold, can I please just take them off, it’s not helping and –”

“No,” Snart said, “it’ll still help with the pain, and you need it for the swelling.”

Barry huffed, deflated.  “Then I’m not sleeping.  We might as well just leave now.”

Snart let out an exasperated sigh.  “And I’m going to assume you’re not going to shut up long enough to let me sleep either, right?”

Barry smiled at him.

Snart let out a huff, and got up.  “Fine,” he said, and walked over to Barry’s bed.  “Push over.”

Barry stared at him.  “W-what?”

“Push.  Over,” Snart said.  “As in move to the side.”

“But – what – what are – hey!”  Snart took Barry’s shoulders and forcibly moved him to the edge of the bed, doing the same with his leg, being a bit more gentle on that one.  Snart got under one set of blankets with Barry, and then threw the other one over Barry only.  It was too hot for that for Snart.

“You’ll warm up faster,” Snart said, “now shut up and go to sleep.”

“You’re in my bed.”

“Fantastic observation, Scarlet.”

“Why are –”

“Shut your mouth and go to sleep,” Snart said again.

“I can’t sleep.”

“You have to be exhausted after that, Barry – just take deep breaths and try to relax – you’ll fall asleep.”

“I can’t relax.”

“For God’s sake, that doctor of yours, your sister, anyone show you any relaxation techniques at all after you started having panic attacks regularly?”

“I know how to –”

“Then do it,” Snart said.  “Count down from a hundred, breathe deeply, imagine meadows and rivers or some shit, just be quiet about it.”

And Barry was quiet for a moment.  

“Every time I close my eyes, I’m there again.”

He spoke softly, barely more than a whisper, and he sounded defeated, scared.  Snart closed his eyes.

“Alright, Scarlet, it’s alright.  You’re not there.”  

Barry shuddered next to him.  “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s OK, Scarlet,” Len said, sighing.  “It’s alright, just relax now.  We’re all done working on your leg, and you’re fine.  It’s OK.”

Len could hear Barry breathing next to him, steadying just the slightest bit.  Len sighed again.  God, the things he did.

He turned over and reached for Barry’s shoulder.  Barry didn’t flinch this time when he touched him.  He rubbed Barry’s shoulder gently, going down onto his arm.

“Close your eyes,” Len said, “I’m right here.  You’re right here, it’s fine.  Close your eyes, Scarlet.”  He looked over, and Barry had shut his eyes.  “It’s OK,” Snart repeated, “you’re alright.  I know it still hurts a lot, but when you wake up the pain’ll be a lot better.  Promise.”

“You’re a liar,” Barry mumbled, but there was no heat behind the words.

Snart smiled.  “Yeah, I am, but not on this one, Red.  Deep breaths there, easy.  It’s OK.  You’re OK, Scarlet.  You’re gonna be just fine.”

“Keep talking,” Barry mumbled, “please.”  His body was giving in to the exhaustion, and he was so tired.  He wanted to sleep, but the fear was there, hyping him up.  As long as Snart kept talking it was kept at bay – the presence of his voice a constant reminder of where he was, when he was – not at the military base, not strapped down to the table, not cold and alone and silent.  He was OK – he was fine.  He was with Snart, right next to him, a warm heat against his side, and he was fine, was fine.

Snart kept talking, rambling really, repeating that he was fine, that it was alright and that he was right there with him – that he knew it hurt and that he was cold but it feel better in the morning – that they’d drive back and he could see his family and friends in the morning – that everything was alright and Barry was safe in the motel room.  And he kept that up until the kid’s breathing evened out to a steady slow rhythm, and then Snart stopped, quiet for a moment, waiting to see if there was protest, and when there wasn’t he turned on his side and shut his eyes, finally.

**  
  
  
  
**

Snart woke up with an arm locked around his own.  He opened his eyes slowly.  Light was coming in through the blinds and he turned to look and see Barry’s eyes still closed, his arm around Snart’s like it was a stuffed animal or something.

Snart rolled his eyes and carefully dislodged his arm.  Barry kept sleeping, and Snart moved around the room quietly.  The kid needed the sleep.

He took a shower and got dressed in the meantime and went through his bags, packing up all the first aid kit stuff again.  He had run out of food besides half a bag of chips and a couple more protein bars.  He’d hit a diner on the way back.  Just then he heard a yawn and looked over to find Barry starting to sit up.

“She wakes,” he said, and Barry frowned at him, scowling.  Len rolled his eyes.  “It was a sleeping beauty reference, stop glaring.”

While Snart tied up his boots Barry gingerly tried to move his leg.  It was still splinted to the broken shower curtain rod, and it still hurt.  Barry was a little surprised at that, and alarmed too, because it had to have been a bad break if it wasn’t already healed up entirely.  It wasn’t nearly as bad as the night before, but it did hurt a bit.

“Let me see,” Snart said, walking over to him.  He unwrapped the now warm ice packs, and then the splint as well.  He finished unwrapping it all the way then, revealing the mess of his leg.

The skin was puckered where the stitches went in and Barry grimaced.  There was dried blood all over him.

“I think those need to stay in for a few more hours,” Snart said.  He looked up and Barry nodded.  “I’m gonna clean this though.”

He came back with a cloth and wiped away the dried blood.  When he was finished he picked up the disinfectant and turned, bracing himself.  Barry met him with wide eyes, a scared expression, but he was trying to hide it now.

“This’ll sting,” Snart said.

Barry’s hands balled to fists, and he nodded once, fast, watching as Snart poured disinfectant on the cloth.  Then he started dabbing at the wound.

Barry hissed in pain, and then groaned, clenching his teeth together.  Snart finished cleaning it until all the blood was gone, and rewrapped it up.  He went back to his bag and then threw Barry a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

Barry looked down at it.  “What’s this?”

“Yours are torn and covered in blood,” Snart said, raising an eyebrow.  “Unless you’d prefer that.”

“We’re not exactly the same size,” Barry grumbled, pulling it on.  It was too big but he pulled the drawstring on the sweatpants tight and ignored the looseness of the shirt.  He knew he must look ridiculous but he didn’t care at that point.  He just wanted to get home and for his leg to stop aching.

“Can you walk on it?” Snart asked.

Barry nodded, stood, grimaced, and walked a few steps.  His mouth tightened and he leaned on the wall, and then slumped into a seat a few steps away.

Snart sighed.  “Come on.”

**  
  
  
  
**

Barry gritted his teeth and kept one hand latched onto the rail, fingers curled until his knuckles ran white.

Snart stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting.

“Suck it up,” Snart said, “It’s going to be a day and a half before you get down here.”

Barry swore under his breath, and let out a gasp as he took another step down.  His leg was not near healed enough for this, and it was starting to worry him.  The pain was shocking, both the intensity and the knowledge that his speed healing hadn’t eliminated it yet.

“Do you need me to carry you?”

“No,” Barry said, and he clenched his teeth again and made it down the last few steps, pausing to pant and lean against the wall when he was done.

Snart eyed him carefully.  “We’re getting something to eat,” he said, “and then I’m taking a closer look at that leg.  I’ll pick up some more ice packs.”

“I don’t – need – ice packs,” Barry said.  “My leg is… is fine.”

Snart raised his eyebrows.  “Oh really.”

Barry glared at him and Snart rolled his eyes.  “Come on, Scarlet.”

**  
  
  
**

They stopped at a diner and Barry ate about three meals worth.  By the end of it the waitress was giving him weird looks.  He was feeling much better afterwards though.  Snart parked the van and climbed in the back, motioning for Barry to follow him afterwards.

Barry did, wearily.  Mardon was still stretched out unconscious, and whatever drug Snart was using, it was working.  Snart turned on a light back there and then got out the first aid kid.  The stupid, awful, first aid kit that Barry was coming to hate with a passion.

“Alright, let me see,” Snart said, motioning, and Barry sat down against the side of the van and extended his leg hesitantly.  Snart unwrapped the bandages carefully, and as the wound was revealed Barry’s stomach dropped.

It was red now, all red and oozing some clear liquid – pus? – and a little bit of blood.

Snart only grimaced, and then touched gently around it.  He looked up, a tight frown on his face.  “It’s hot to the touch,” Snart said, “it’s probably infected.  I don’t have antibiotics to give you, and I don’t know how much you’d need anyway, so we’re going to have to try and get you back fast.”

Barry was breathing fast now, and his throat was tight, dry.  “What – what antibiotics will I need?  Is that – is that pills or – or an IV or?”

“I don’t know,” Snart said, “I’m not touching that – I’m not a doctor.”

“You put stitches in and you’re not a doctor,” Barry said, his voice high, “can’t you – you don’t have pills I could try?”

“Barry,” Snart said, “I don’t have antibiotics.”  He started fishing through the first aid kit some more.  “I’m going to take these stitches out.”

“No,” Barry said, pulling his leg back.  It was too much, this was all too much at once and he wanted an answer – didn’t want an IV – didn’t want – he couldn’t breathe.

“Scarlet, relax, it doesn’t hurt.  Let me just take them out.”

“No,” Barry said again, shaking his head, his knees drawn in close to his chest.  “No.”

Snart took in a long breath.  “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get you back to Star Labs to take care of that leg – and the sooner it’s taken care of the less problems you’ll have.  So let me take the stitches out and we’ll get going.”

“D-do you have water?” Barry asked, pulling at the collar of his shirt.  “I – I’m really thirsty.”

Snart blinked but turned.  “Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice short and clipped, “but we need to do this now, Barry.”  He handed a water bottle over and Barry gulped the thing down in seconds.  He put it on the floor of the van and then looked anxiously at Len.

“Do you have any more?”

“Just one,” Snart said, and it was only half full.  He handed it to Barry and he drank the whole thing.

“Can we get more?” Barry asked.

“After I do this,” Snart said.

“No, now – I’m – please, I need water.  I’ll just – I had money in my jeans pocket, what did –”

“Kid, you just drank a bottle and a half, you’re fine, now let me –”

“I need more water,” Barry said, desperately.  His mouth was already dry again.

“Barry –”

“Please, I’ll let you take the stitches out, just – just more water, I –”

“For Christ’s sake, fine – just – stay here – don’t move.  I’ll be right back.”

**  
  
  
**

When Len finally got back to the van, holding a six pack of water bottles, he found Barry sitting in the corner, taking deep, gasping breaths, obviously trying to calm himself down.

“Christ, Scarlet,” Len mumbled, pulling out a bottle of water, “here – just –”

In a second the water bottle was out of his hand and then empty, Barry’s hands blurring as he grabbed a second one.  Len reached over and grabbed Barry’s wrist before he could get the second water bottle to his mouth.

“Easy,” Len said, giving him a hard stare, “you’ll make yourself sick – slow down.”

Barry shook.  “I can’t,” he said, “I just – I – I –”

“Alright, relax,” Len said, shifting over and taking the water bottle from Barry’s hand.  When Barry whined as Len pried his fingers off Len sighed and touched his shoulder.  “It’s right there, see.”  He gestured to the pack of water bottles, just a few feet away.  “It’s right there, Scarlet.  Just take some deep breaths now.  You can have some more in a minute.”

Barry whined some more and his eyes stayed stuck to the water bottles, his hands fidgety and restless.

“They didn’t give you enough water there?” Len said as he got out the first aid kit again, grabbing a small pair of scissors.

Barry shook his head, and after a moment’s hesitation reached for another bottle.  Len caught his wrist before he could grab it.

“If I let go of your wrist, will you drink the water slowly?” Len said, his expression hard, warning.

Barry nodded fast and Len carefully let go of his wrist and then took the water bottle himself.  He uncapped it and handed it to Barry, holding it a second longer, giving him a look.  “Take sips,” Len said, “Only sips.  You start chugging it and I’m taking it back.  I’m not dealing with you puking in my car.”

Barry took the bottle and took a few gulps.

“Scarlet.”  Barry froze, wide eyes.  “Sips,” Len said, pointedly.  Barry took a long sip.  Len narrowed his eyes.  “Slower.”  Barry took a smaller sip, stopped, swallowed, and then took another.  “Good,” Len said, looking down.  Barry was holding the water bottle in both hands, and Len figured that was good anyway, something to keep him occupied at least.

“I’m going to take the stitches out,” Len said, snipping the line before Barry could say anything.  He started pulling them out and Barry fidgeted a bit, but kept sipping the water.  Len pulled out a tube then.  

He looked up at Barry carefully and held up the tube for him to see.  “It’s some antibacterial cream.  Hopefully it helps.”

“Wait, is it… is it going to hurt?” Barry asked.

Len let out a sigh, felt like rolling his eyes, but didn’t when he saw the look on Barry’s face, embarrassed but scared.

“I don’t know, Scarlet,” he said, and then looked down at the tube again.  He held it up for Barry to see. “It says pain free.”

“OK,” Barry said, and Snart pushed some out of the tube and applied it to Barry’s leg.

Barry hissed and jerked back.  “It stings!” he said, only half pain, the other half in surprise.

“Alright, easy, it’ll stop.”

Barry grimaced and squirmed, fidgeting worse, a cringe stuck on his face.  “Wash it off,” Barry said, looking at the stock of water bottles.

“You are leaving that on, Scarlet, no matter how much it stings,” Len said, and Barry stuck him with a pleading face.  When he realized that wasn’t going to work he let out a whimper and looked down at the floor of the van, clenching his hands.

The stinging subsided a minute or so later, and Len wrapped his leg back up with new bandages.  Then he pulled out a couple new ice packs.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Snart said, holding them up before going to wrap them around his leg with more bandages and tape.

“They make it worse,” Barry said, muttering.

“They’ll keep the swelling down,” Snart said, “and it’ll help with the pain too.”

“I’m cold.”

Snart threw a sweatshirt at him.


	8. Stop the Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry's leg is infected and Len doesn't know what the hell to do (but does a surprisingly good job at it anyway).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm working on developing their relationship right now. More on that in end notes.

It was another hour before Barry started to feel the effects.

His leg hurt.  It was burning, and it was hot, stinging with needle sharp stabs every few seconds.  He started to sweat, and then he started to shiver.  He curled up on the seat next to Snart, who was driving.

Snart looked over at him.  His face was flushed red, sweat beading at the top, but he was shivering.  Snart reached over while they were at a red light and he didn’t even protest when he touched his forehead.  He was burning hot.

“You’ve got a fever, Scarlet,” Snart said, more mumbling to himself.  He needed to get the kid back to Star Labs.  “Think you could give that friend of yours a call?”

Barry blinked at him.  “What?”

“The doctor,” Snart said, “the one you work with.  Long hair, we kidnapped her, remember?”

Barry frowned.  “Caitlin.”

“Yes, that one - why don’t you give her a call, ask and see if there’s anything we can do for that leg.”

Barry glanced at his phone but shook his head.  “No, we’re - it’s fine.”

Snart shot him a glance.  “Either you pick up the phone and call or I take the phone and call for you.”

Barry scowled at him but picked up the phone and hit the screen angrily a few times, before bringing it to his ear.

“Hey, Caitlin.”  Snart heard him say.  “No, it’s… yeah, we have him, I - yeah, sorry, I just - I know, I didn’t call, I should have… yeah well that’s why I’m calling actually… no, I’m fine really, but I - I hurt my leg, it’s… Snart put stitches in and - it’s fine, really, it’s healing, but it - it’s a little red and we think, we think it’s um might be a little, just a little infected.  No, I’m - no, Cait, I’m sure it’s not that bad it’s just kind of red and… yeah a little bit.  No, it was… was clear, but… yeah but just a little.  It, um… yeah, I - I think so.  I think it’s a fever, but - no, Cait, it’s not that bad, really, it’s - Cait I’m fine, I’m sure, please, it’s not that bad it was just a little red and we - Snart washed it out, he disinfected it like a million times, OK, I don’t know - Cait, it’s not that bad, I swear, it’s fine, he just - he told me to call and ask about antibiotics, I - what?  But - OK, yeah, fine, sure.”  

Barry turned to him.  “She wanted to talk to you.”

Snart raised an eyebrow, surprised, but he took the phone, and had the sudden notion of doing something surreal.  But Caitlin spoke fast and hard, her voice unwavering and Snart realized why she had told him to take the phone as she spoke.  Barry watched him suspiciously, eyeing him and the phone with nerves.  He handed the phone back to Barry when she was finished.

“Hey, yeah, it’s me… but… OK, but what is… Caitlin?  No, Cait, no, can’t - but you ca’t, it’s - it’s Snart!  You’re… no, you have to wait until I get there, Caitlin, you have to wait, please - meet - meet us halfway, start driving, Cait… No, no, Cait, come on, just… but what - what do you mean…. no, Cait, tell him no, tell him you’ll meet us halfway, Cait, if you don’t he will, please…”

It kept going on like that for a while, Barry pleading, getting increasingly distressed.  Snart wondered how much she’d told him.  When he fially hung up he looked like he was going to cry.  He practically threw the phone down.  The  silence was tense for a few moments.

“We’re going to stop at the next gas station,” Snart said.  He looked over to find Barry glaring foward, out the window, looking absolutely dejected.  “Barry?”

Barry didn’t say anything for a moment, and then he took in a deep breath and looked sideways at him.  “Could you just tell me what she said to you?  What she told you to do?”

Snart took in a long breath.  “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Barry.  I’ll tell you everything I do before I do it, OK, but we’re going to stop in a minute, so let’s just wait -”

“It’ll be better if I know,” Barry said, “Please, I just - just tell me what you have to do, it’ll be easier if I know what you’re doing.”

Snart sighed.  “We’re just going to drain the fluid, Scarlet - change the bandages and put some more disinfectant - the creme, I know - it hurts, but it’s not as bad as the alcohol - put that on and wrap it back up.  That’s all.  It’ll be fine.”

Barry did’t look like he believed him, and he shouldn’t.  Len was glossing over the details here, big time.

“How do you drain it?”

Len took in a long breath.  “Scarlet, let’s just -”

“Tell me,” Barry said, and he had his teeth set, scared, apprehensive.

“I’m just - it’s going to hurt, OK, but not too bad - I swear - but I have to… to make a small, a very small incision and then -”

Barry’s head was spinning.  “You’re going to cut me open.”

“No, Barry, it’s not -”

“You’re going to cut me open,” Barry repeated, softer this time, mumbling to himself, numb.

And he was on the table again and sweat, pain, blood, no, they were cutting into him, they were cutting into him.  The click of tools, the rubbing alcohol smell, and then the slicing, deliberate, slow pain that burned across his skin, into his muscle - the pain he had become so familiar with, and that was what Snart was going to do that was what he was going to do to him.

“Scarlet,” Snart said, stealing glances over at him, looking frantically between the kid and the road.  “Scarlet, stay with me - it’s not that bad, it won’t be that bad, I promise, kid, it’ll take me two minutes.”

Barry shook his head.  He couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t do this.  He was going to cut into him, he was going to cut into his skin down into the muscle to let pus and blood and whatever else out of his skin and he was going to feel it, the steady burn line pain, and it was so familiar, so goddamn familiar now, and no, no, he couldn’t do that again, couldn’t - it would be worse, it would set off a flash back, he knew it - it would set off a flash back and he’d be right back there, he’d be right back and he was already getting there - he could’t breathe, he couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, could’t see -

“Stop the car.”

“Scarlet?”

“Stop - Cold, stop.  The car.”

Snart pulled onto the side of the highway, down into the breakdown lane, and the car wasn’t even still when Barry ripped open the door and jumped out.

For a second Snart thought he had run, and felt a split second panic at the thought before it even really registered, and then he was out of the car and around the side, and Barry was right there, and he was puking at the edge of the treeline.

Barry could’t do this, could’t do this.  His leg hurt, throbbed and he couldn’t think through the fever nevermind panic.  He couldn’t get the feeling out of his head, hands on his skin, absolutely exposed, naked, cuting, burning lines up and down - his leg, foot, elbow - his neck once - he was sure they would kill him.  No, he was alive, alive to be cut into again, by Captain Cold this time, by Leonard Snart.  He’d probably need stitches again afterwards and fuck he’d just gotten those out - he couldn’t do another round, they had hurt so much the first time.  He was terrified - terrified of Snart cutting into him, terrified he’d get trapped in his own mind - terrified his vision would black out again and he’d be there, be there -

And even as he thought it his vision was being eaten by black dots and Barry felt his stomach roll.  There was nothing left to throw up but he kept heaving, his body feeling traitorous, awful, terrible, like it was trying to consume itself, and then his vision was really gone and Barry stumbled backwards only to fall to his knees.  A desperate noise came up his throat, one he didn’t realize he was making until he heard it himself.  His head was pounding and he brought it down, onto his knees, hands digging into his hair.  He could hear his own breathing, erratic and way too fast, like he was running a race, and his heartbeat hurt it was thudding so hard, seemed to bang against his ribs.  His head was spinning with dizziness now, and he felt like the world was tilting, his hands crushing against the sides of his head, trying to still it all.

“Scarlet.”

He could hear him talking but he only curled up farther, forehead crushing into his knees, almost touching the ground.  Snart’s going to cut into him, going to slice up his leg because it’s fucking infected.  Infected.  All that stinging burning disinfectant and it was infected anyway.

_Dark, fuck, no, pain, hurts, stop, please, you have to stop._

He was freezing.  He was freezing, he was freezing.  Barry tore at the tape around his leg, ripping the ice packs off.  He threw them on the ground, away, an indeterminable direction with his head still down.  Light was seeping in through the edges of his vision but it was a blur of black dots besides that and he wanted to see, wanted to be able to see, wanted to run and he couldn’t, he couldn’t move.

_I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll stop - I won’t talk, please not - no please, please I’ll be quiet, please -_

He needed to call Caitlin.  He’d call Caitlin back, he’d call Caitlin and tell her to meet him halfway - he’d call her and talk until she understood, until she agreed, and Snart - he needed to get away - Snart would hold him down, he’d cut into him the one two three pain line burning pain steady slow strip pain no.  He’d run - he had to run - he needed to get away.  But Barry couldn’t see and that was another wash of fear, another wash of horror, because if he couldn’t see he couldn’t defend himself, couldn’t run, and Snart would hold him down and cut into him and he had to get away, had to get away.

“Scarlet, breathe, you need to breathe, kid.”

_Cold, dark, pain, no.  Get the file.  Oh God.  I need a syringe - yes the four eighty alpha mix.  Hurts, please.  Hold that - there his leg.  No.  OK, brace.  Pain.  White hot, all over, pulsing pain, knee, no, please, hurts, stop, hurts.  Someone get me a better damn gag._

“Come on, Scarlet, easy there.  It’s OK.”

Barry let out a sob, a rasping noise.  He was crying now and hadn’t registered when he had started, and he was rocking, still crushing at his head with his hands, and he had started mumbling, crying the words, over and over again.

“I can’t see, I can’t see.”

Snart reached for his shoulder and Barry jerked away.  “Don’t touch me!”

“OK, OK, I’m not, I’m not touching you Scarlet.  Can you look up at me?  Can you look at me for just a second, Scarlet?”

“Don’t touch me,” Barry mumbled.  “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me.”

“I’m not,” Snart said, edging around him, “I’m not touching you, Barry.  Can you look up at me for a second?  Do you want some water?”

Barry perked up at that.  He stilled, and then leaned up a little, unfolding from his curled up position, head on his knees against the ground.  

“I’m gonna grab you some water,” Snart said, already backing away.  He came back a moment later.  He reached out, and Barry’s eyes were still unseeing, so he uncapped the water bottle and then nudged it against his hand until he took it.  Barry downed the whole bottle and Snart didn’t say anything about it this time.  He kept trembling, clutching the empty bottle in his hands, fingers moving.  Snart watched as his breathing stabilized a bit, and then it looked like his eyes were focusing again.

“You getting your vision back, Scarlet?” Len said, keeping his voice low, soft and gentle, like talking to a frightened animal.  Barry nodded back at him, wrapping his arms around his knees.  “Yeah?” Len said, “that’s good.  I’m gonna touch your shoulder, Barry.  That OK?  Just gonna touch your shoulder.”

When Barry hesitated, and then gave a brief, timid nod, Len shifted over and reached out.  He let his fingers land on his shoulder first, gentle, and then moved so the palm of his hand went over the fabric of his T-shirt there.  He moved it down, onto his back, and then started rubbing smooth circles, not too hard, just a brush of his fingertips and palm, enough to give him a little reassurance, just enough without pushing into too much.

“Just breathe,” Len said, “just breathe, you’re alright.  You’re gonna be fine.  You’re doin good, Scarlet, just keep breathing.”

They turned hiccupy - his breath stuttering but not quite so labored.  He was getting over the panic attack and turning towards the teary, unsettling fragile stage.

“Can you tell me what that was all about, Scarlet?” Len said after a few minutes had gone by.

Barry shuddered and leaned away a little.  “I -”  He swallowed hard, took in a shuddering breath and collected himself again.  “I don’t want you cutting into me.”

Snart took in a breath.  “It sounds bad but it won’t be worse than getting a couple shots, OK - I prom-”

“No,” Barry said, “no, they - they cut into me, and… and no.”

Snart paused.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yes you are.”

“Scarlet.”

“No,” Barry said, shrugging off his hand and shuddering, wrapping his arms around himself tighter.  “No, you’re - you’re Captain Cold.  You’re Leonard Snart - you’ve hurt my friends and me, and - and you’re - you’re going to cut into me and - and I can’t - I can’t do that again, Snart, I can’t do this again, it - I got away, I don’t want to go back, I don’t want to ever do that - that -”  He broke down, pushing his face into his knees, silent and shaking.

“Barry,” Snart said, “I said it before.  If I was going to hurt you, I would have done it already, OK, kid?  I’m not going to hurt you.  It’ll be a couple little nicks and then a bit of pain and it’ll be over with.  I’m not going to hurt you, OK?  I meant it, I don’t do torture, I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t do what they did to you, Scarlet, OK?  And I know you have no reason to believe me, so don’t take my word, OK?  Don’t take my word, take my actions - you’re a scientist.  Tell me why I would help you all this time to hurt you now.  Come on, Barry, tell me.  Have I hurt you yet?”

“Yes.”

“Scarlet.”

“You have.”

“When it wasn’t to help you.  On this trip, Scarlet.”

Barry didn’t answer.

“Yeah.  OK.  So, I’m not going to hurt you, OK kid?  For God’s sake I slept in the same god damn bed as you so you could get some sleep and stop shivering, alright?”

Barry wouldn’t look at him and Snart sighed.  “How about we get this over with now, alright?”

Barry looked up suddenly and shook his head, breath catching.  “No.”

“Alright, easy,” Snart said before he could get another word out.  “Relax, alright.  Relax.  I’m not going to hurt you.  No one’s going to hurt you.  Just relax.”

Barry shook and turned away again, biting down on the inside of his mouth.  

“I don’t think I can do this one, Snart,” Barry said quietly.

“Len.”

“What?”

“Len, call me Len, I’m sick of this Snart business.”

“Len,” Barry said, like he was trying it out.

“You can do this, alright?  We’ll just take it slow.  Let me grab the kit, and you can tell -”

“No.”

“Barry, I know it’s not going to be fun but -”

“No - I’ll - I’ll run.  I’ll run or - I’ll get away, I won’t - I won’t let you -”

“Easy, you don’t need to run from me, alright?  I’m not going to just tie you up and start cutting, kid, geez.  Look, what do you need me to do?”

“What?”

“What do you need me to do.  As in, what do you need me to do for you to get this done.  What?  More water, another motel, a goddamn stuffed animal to squeeze, whatever you want, kid.”

“I… I don’t know.”

Snart sighed.  “Alright, well why don’t we get back into the car, OK?  We’ll take the next exit and I’ll buy a couple blankets and some water and you can pick out whatever junk food you want, OK?”

“Oh… OK.”

“OK?”

“OK.”

**  
  
  
  
  
  
**

Snart was walking through wal-mart.  With the flash.  Pushing a shopping cart.  This was his life now.

He grabbed two blankets, both very fuzzy and very comforty looking.  He grabbed another six pack of water.  (Barry had to make a stop at the restroom.)  And they roamed the isles of junk food while Barry pulled things off the shelves and dumped them into the cart.  Snart, half joking, walked by the toy aisle and held up a big teddy bear (he kept his expression neutral for a good five seconds because hell if it helped he’d buy it).  Barry glared at him.

“You want anything else?” Snart asked.

Barry hesitated as they got closer to the check out line.  “I don’t want to do this,” he said, his voice coming out very afraid and partly angry.

“Not an option, Red.  I’m giving you a free pass.  Anything else?  I grabbed some more ice packs - I’ll wait to put them on, OK, I won’t put them on right away.  But you want anything else?  Anything that’ll make this easier?”

“I want my friends,” he said quietly.

Snart was quiet for a moment.  “You want to call them?”

“Call them?”

“Yeah, while I do it - you want to call them while I do it?”

Barry hesitated.  “No,” he said, “no, it’s… just talk to me, OK?  Just… just don’t… don’t have it be silent.”

“Alright,” Len said, tucking that piece of information away.  They checked out and started walking back to the car.  “You all set to go, Scarlet?”

Barry shuddered, and then started shaking bad about thirty feet from the car.  At twenty he stopped altogether.

“Red?” Len said, pausing and looking over at him.

“Not - n-not in the van,” Barry said.

“OK,” Len said, “you need me to find another motel?  It’s gonna look weird when we just stop in for ten minutes though, Scarlet -”

“Outside,” Barry said.

Snart’s brow furrowed.  “You want to do it outside?”

“Yes.”

“OK,” Snart said, turning back towards the car, walking.  Barry started too.  “We’ll get back on the highway,” Snart decided, “and pull over again.”

Barry nodded, his mouth tight.  They drove in silence, and then Len remembered what Barry had said and turned on the radio.  They got out on the highway again and Len pulled back into the breakdown lane.  He got out of the car.

Barry followed him, walking stiffly to the back of the van where Len pulled out the stuff they bought and the first aid kit.  He brought one of the blankets over and spread it out on the ground, over the grass.

“Alright,” Len said, “I think you should lie down.”

“I don’t want to lie down,” Barry said.

“I really think you should lie down, Scarlet.”

“I want to see.”

Len let out a sigh.  “Scarlet, you really don’t want to see.  OK.  I get it, really, I do - you want to be able to see what’s going on - but it looks worse than it is, and it’s going to freak you out.  Just lie back, OK?”

Barry frowned, but he sat down on the blanket when Len knelt in the grass, and then slowly leaned back so his back hit the blanket as well.  He started to tremble.

“D-don’t do anything without telling me,” Barry said.

“I won’t,” Len said.  “Can you take off the sweatpants?”

Barry pushed them down over his hips, swallowing up the embarrassment.  He didn’t take them all the way off though, and Len reached and pulled at his shoes, and then at the sweatpants so they were off.  Barry’s face was flushed, but then Len grabbed the other blanket and put it over him, only moving it off his injured leg.

That felt good.  Barry grabbed at the blanket, bringing it up against his chin.  He shivered, but it was better now.  He relaxed a little bit, and Len opened up the first aid kid.

“I got the snacks, and more water, for as soon as we’re finished,” he said, pulling out the items from the first aid kit.  Barry tried to lean up and look but Len pushed down on his shoulder, giving him a disapproving look, but it turned into a gentle admonishment at the end.  “Don’t watch, Barry,” he said, and Barry resighned himself to leaning back again, looking up.

“Just watch the sky,” Len said, “you’re out in the open, OK?  You’ve got the blanket, nice and warm, and there’s plenty of light.  I’m gonna keep talking to you and you’ve got plenty of food and water for as soon as we’re done.  You can have as much as you want, OK?  Just a couple minutes and we’ll be done.”

Barry nodded, and he was stuttering in breath now, his face pale.  He was clutching at the blankets, his good leg moving and fidgeting around.

Len started to unwrap his leg.  When the bandages came off he winced and then immediately tried to hide it, looking over at Barry who was watching him with wide eyes.  The wound was worse.  It was escalating rapidly, way too rapidly, something about his speed healing - but it was getting bad, a mess of pus and blood and skin.  The cut wasn’t healing the way it should because of the infection, so it was still open, not all sealed up like it should be.  Len winced again - God, he hoped it wouldn’t need more stitches.

“Alright, Scarlet, I’m gonna get started, OK?”

He got a whimper in response and stopped to give his leg a pat.

“It’s alright.  You’re gonna feel a sharp sting, OK?  Just a little one.  I’m just gonna get a little spot and see how much I can get to drain, OK?”  He got another whimper and looked to see Barry with his eyes screwed shut.  “Hey,” he said, “Barry, you with me?  Just a little sting.  Gonna hurt for a second, but it’ll be quick, OK?  You OK?”

He waited until Barry gave a nod, and then used a pen knife to cut open the scabbing wound a bit.  Barry made a sharp cry, trembling all over, and Len put the knife down to use a towel to get rid of the pus that came out, wiping blood away as well.  

It was gross.  He looked up to make sure Barry wasn’t looking.  

“Gonna squeeze down a bit, OK, Scarlet?  I don’t have the knife, but it’s going to hurt a bit, alright.  Just a bit, just keep breathing.  Relax.”  He squeezed down on Barry’s leg to get more pus out and Barry whimpered, pulling away.  Snart stopped.

“I’m not gonna hold you down, OK, Barry, because I don’t need to be precise or anything with this like with the stitches, but I have to get it done.  I’m gonna keep going, OK?  If you pull away I’ll stop, but I have to keep going.”

Barry nodded and squeezed his eyes shut only to open them again frantically.  Snart pressed his finger’s into Barry’s thigh, near the wound, making him whimper again.  He didn’t move this time though, so after pausing a second, he continued.  

“I need to make another little cut, OK, kid?  This one’s going to be a bit bigger, alright?  That OK?  I can do two little ones if you want but that’ll take longer.”

Barry let out a groan.  “Can I -”  His breath was coming in gasps.  “Water, or… or, stop - wait, I need to stop.”

And suddenly Barry was shaking and starting to cry and it came on so quick this time, so out of nowhere - usually the panic attacks came right after Snart did something especially nerve racking or painful, or if he did anything quick, but nothing was like that right now.

“Yeah, you need a break?  You can take a break, Scarlet.  Have a drink of water.”  He pulled the blanket over his leg just as Barry started to sit up, looking there.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching, but Len stopped him.

“Scarlet, that’s a bad idea.  Just take some deep breaths now.  You can have a water, OK?”  He appeased him with the water bottle, distracting him as he pulled it out.  Barry grabbed it up and started drinking, slowing down but not quite to sips when Len chastised him.  After a couple minutes he gently started getting Barry to lean back down.

“No,” Barry said, his face pleading again, “No, Snart, please no.  It hurts, it hurts I -”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” Len said, shaking his head.  “Come on Scarlet, I know what we had to do yesterday was a lot more painful.  This is easy stuff - you can do it.”  Snart was trying to lighten things up a little, trying to get him to calm down a bit.  He rubbed Barry’s shoulder, and Barry sniffed, tears in his eyes, wiping at them before they could fall, scared.

“It feels just like it, I don’t want to,” Barry said suddenly, erupting into tremors again, all over, and he was hyping himself up now, getting himself worked up.

“Easy, easy,” Len said, “You’re not there.  You’re right here.  Let me finish up, OK?  Five more minutes, and I’ll be all done, Scarlet.  I just need five minutes.  Think you can lie back for me now?  You can have another water as soon as we finish.  The snacks too.  You’re doing real good for me, Barry.  Just a bit more now.”

But Barry was clutching his arm now, and Len didn’t know when that had happened, but he was, and he wouldn’t let go, kept that pleading look on his face that had Len almost giving in, almost, because it was goddamn awful to watch, and if he had in any way been immune to those looks before then any shell, any cold exterior he managed to keep had all but disintegrated by this point.  

“Come on, it wasn’t so bad, was it?  It wasn’t so bad, just a quick sting, then a little pain, I know, me pressing down can’t feel good, but it’s done quick - it’ll probably even feel a little better by the time I’m done - get all that gunk out of the wound.  Just lean back, Scarlet, you can do it.”

He whimpered and leaned down slowly, staring at Snart as he did, his hands still latched onto Len’s wrist.

“Alright, that’s really good, Scarlet, really good.  I’m gonna need you to let go of me though for a second, alright?”

Barry reluctantly let go of Len’s wrist, and Len rearranged.  “I’m gonna make that cut now, OK, Scarlet.  One second, just gonna hurt for one second.”  He got the knife ready in his right hand and then reached up with his left, taking Barry’s hand.  He squeezed down.  “You want me to count?” he asked.

“No.”

“No?  You sure?  Just -”

“Just do it.  Just - quick.”

“OK, Scarlet, gonna do it right now.”

And he did, made the cut.  Barry crushed his hand, but he only let out one squeak, one little grunt of pain, his teeth clenched down tightly, and Snart continued the process of cleaning out the wound, draining it, murmuring reassurances the whole time.  After that it was one more cut, about the same size, and Snart was done.  

Barry sat up ad pulled the blanket around his shoulders, and Snart passed him water (sips) and whatever food he asked for (chew) until he had stopped shaking and was looking a lot more calm.

They got back into the car and started driving.  Barry slumped in his seat, forehead against the glass of the window.  Snart looked ahead and flipped on the radio.

He decided he’d wait until at least the next exit to tell him they had to repeat the process each hour.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**

Barry did not take the news well.

At the next stop, he was teary and skittish the whole time.  He had to stop between every cut and every cleaning, clutched onto Len’s arm, wrist, hand, whatever he could reach.  He wouldn’t slow down when he went to drink, and then he didn’t eat anything at all afterwards.  They got back into the car and Snart brought the blanket with him, draped it over him in the seat.  He was still shivering.

The stop after that he was angry.  He swore at Snart and cried and locked Len out of the van for a full ten minutes before finally relenting and coming out to get it done.  Len was extra gentle, keeping his voice steady and even but Barry could not be consoled.  He wanted nothing to do with Len - flinched every time he touched him, no matter how carefully.  When Len told him to drink slower he gulped faster, like he was trying to get as much as he could before Len took it away.  They had to stop for more water after that.

And the time after that?  Well, Len was exhausted, Barry had fallen asleep in the car and they were still at least two hours from Central City (no matter how many traffic laws Snart violated).  Barry curled into a ball as soon as Len woke him, and for the life of him Len did not know what to do.  He didn’t make the mistake of leaving the keys in the car this time, so he was able to get Barry out of the car, but he didn’t know what to do.  One second the kid was practically hitting him, the next he was grabbing his hand and wouldn’t let go.

Barry was scared.  Barry was scared and it hurt just enough to make it a stressful event without any of the added PTSD and phobia stuff.  On the bright side the wound was starting to look better, not worse, so there was something.

“Shh, Barry, it’s OK.  It’s alright - I - yeah, I know it hurts, kid, I know.  Just one more, OK?  Just one more than I’m done.  You can squeeze my hand, OK?  Just hold still for me for one second and it’ll all be done.”

Barry squirmed away from him, writhing on the blanket.  He was sweating and shivering and crying and Snart didn’t know what to do.

“Scarlet,” he said finally, reaching for his shoulder, “Scarlet, it’s OK.”  He was mumbling, repetitions of “I wanna go home” and “stop” and “no” and “please.”  “Scarlet,” Len tried again, “Scarlet, you have to tell me what you need, what do you need me to do?”

“Stop,” he said, and Len closed his eyes.

“I can’t Barry, I can’t.  You need this done.  Your leg is infected and you need it taken care of.  But tell me what I can do to help, OK?  Tell me what you need.”

“I need to stop,” Barry said again.

“We can’t stop,” Len said, “try again, Barry.  Come on, what do you need me to do?  You need more water?  More food?  Something else?”

Barry made a whimpering noise and he blinked at Snart.  He looked like all the world like a petulant child crying and throwing a fit over some minor thing, but this was so much worse, so much worse, and it made Len’s stomach drop.

He would blame it on that, later.  He would blame the look and the stomach churning sickness that forcing someone to undergo pain over and over again brought up.

Len hugged him.

And Barry melted.  Len reached down just as Barry started to sit up again, and he drew him in fast, into a steady, gentle hug and held him there.  And Barry froze for one second, one beat, his muscles tense and still and then he just collapsed into it.  Len held him and rubbed his back and Barry clutched at the back of Len’s shirt and cried against his shoulder.

“OK?  Alright?  It’s OK, Scarlet.  It’s OK.”  He kept mumbling reassurances, little reminders that he was OK, that everything was fine, and praises, saying he was doing such a good job and he knew it hurt and it was awful and terrifying but it was OK, and he was going to be OK, until Barry stopped crying and shaking and he was just sniffing, still holding onto him.

Len leaned back, and Barry tensed.  He kept rubbing his back though.

“You OK?” he asked, watching carefully as Barry ducked his head, looked away.  His face was red now, all puffy from crying, and incredibly strained, but he nodded.  “You think we can get this over with?”  He got another nod, right after Barry’s shoulders fell a little bit and his face crumpled just a tiny bit more.  “OK,” Snart said softly, easing him down onto his back. “OK, gonna be OK.”  And he got it done fast, and he held Barry’s hand when Barry placed it, palm up, next to his leg.

Barry went back into the car, and Len just barely caught a “thank you,” in a hushed voice, before Barry curled up with the blanket again, leaning his forehead up against the glass, and fell asleep.

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Barry’s leg was looking better then and Snart was exhausted so he cheated just a little and waited an hour and a half that time, so that they would only have to stop once more before getting to Central.  For the last time, he held Barry’s hand and gave him another couple quick hugs in between cuts and Barry fell asleep as soon as they got in the car again.  And then they were finally, mercifully back.

Cisco brought out a wheelchair, and they loaded Mardon (still unconscious) onto it.  Snart followed Barry inside, Barry looking utterly worn and dejected.  When he had to sit down on the medical bed, his eyes immediately flashed to Snart.

But Detective West was there, as well as Iris West, and even if Snart felt the compulsion to go to Barry’s side, to reassure him that it was alright, that everything was fine, and it was almost over, even if he wanted to help him and hold him he couldn’t.  Joe West wasn’t letting him anywhere near him.  So he quietly took his leave, giving Barry one last nod, before leaving him there with his friends and family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Barry is starting to trust Len, and Len is starting to grow attached to Barry. I just wanted to note - Len is very sarcastic and borders on cruel at times. He's joking. Sort of. Len is using it as a defense mechanism as he realizes he's starting to actually like Barry, which I don't explicitly say in the story because it wouldn't fit into either his or Barry's perspectives. But essentially, I realize he's being a bit of an asshole at times - you don't tell someone in pain or with a phobia to suck it up - but it's his default personality - Captain Cold. You'll see it start to fall away in later chapters - it already has to some extent. But anyway, no, I'm not ignoring the fact that he's a criminal and they have a bit of a history together - they'll be more conversations about that. In the meantime, Barry's going to get worse before he gets better. Sorry (not sorry). Thanks to all for reading and I hope you're still liking it! :) (Sorry about ranting)


	9. A Terrible Rotten Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len makes a visit. Barry tries to be better, fails, and then Len helps him.

“I don’t want an IV,” Barry said, earnestly.

            “I’m sorry, Barry, really, but we have to put one in,” Caitlin said.

            Barry wanted to scream.  His leg hurt, Len was gone, and he was absolutely completely exhausted.  He was already crying again, and they hadn’t even done anything.

            He rubbed at his eyes.  “Please, Caitlin, I’m so tired.”

            “I know Barry,” she said.  Her face was pained.  “But I have to give you the antibiotics.”

            Barry put his head in his hands.  “I just want to go home.”

            “How about we set you up at home then, huh?” Joe said, moving to rub his back.  “We’ll set you up with the IV at home.  You can lie in bed and sleep while it goes through.”

            Barry pursed his lips.  He liked that better.  He liked that a lot better.  But he still didn’t want an IV.

            Somehow they ushered him into a car though, and he spent the ride leaning against Iris, exhausted.  They went up to his room at Joe’s house and Caitlin set the IV stand up and the antibiotics in the IV bag and then they had to get the needle in and Barry was a ball up against the headboard, shaking his head as Iris and Joe and Caitlin and Eddie tried to coax him into giving them his arm.

            “You can have it in your arm or hand or wrist, wherever you’d like,” Caitlin said.

            He settled on arm, the crook of his elbow, because it hurt the least amount going in and because usually when they put in IV’s and left them there they put them in his hand.  He still cried and shook when Caitlin put it in, and Iris held his hand and Joe rubbed his back and he was miserable.  Iris and Eddie left a little while later, and Caitlin set the IV up so he’d be good through the night, and then she left too, telling him she’d be there first thing in the morning, and not to touch any of the wires.  Joe offered to stay with him for the night, but Bary sent him off to his own room.  He wanted to be alone for a little while.  He had plenty of water next to his bed and he had Joe leave on a couple lights, and he had lots of blankets.  They were trying hard to keep him comfortable.

            He had just closed his eyes when he heard the sliding sound of something opening.

            It was his window.  And Leonard Snart’s face popped through the opening.

            “Wha-” Barry started, jerking upright.  He looked around in a tense whisper - his bedroom door wasn’t even closed!  “What are you doing here?  Joe is right downstairs, Snart, what the hell -”

            “I thought I told you to call me Len.”

            “Len, Snart, whatever,” Barry said, “you’re going to - what are you even doing here?”

            Len looked around, walked aimlessly to the other side of the room and shut the door.  “What, you thought I’d just leave you just like that?”

            “Yes,” Barry said.  “You walked out.”  There was something vaguely accusatory in his tone.

            “If I had stayed I would have wound up getting arrested.”  Barry’s face softened at that.  Len walked back over to his bed.  “So, you gonna live?  What’s the verdict?  Amputation?”

            Barry scowled at him.  “It’s fine,” Barry said, “she said it be fine.”

            “You get the antibiotics?”

            Barry held up his arm dejectedly in answer, the one with the IV in.  Snart grimaced in sympathy.  “You OK with that?” he asked.

            “No,” Barry said, looking tired.  “But it doesn’t really matter what I’m OK with.”

            Snart grimaced again.  He grabbed the desk chair to his right and pulled it over, sitting down.  “You feeling better now at least?”

            Barry shrugged, and then picked at the IV site absently.  “I want it out,” he mumbled.  It was an itch against the back of his mind, a nagging anxiety that was making it hard for him to settle down to sleep, to calm down from the day’s events.  “I hate IV’s.”

            “You want to tell me about it?”

            Barry was quiet for a moment.  “Not really.”

            “OK.”

            “They… usually… usually when there was an IV, it… it meant they were doing something… something big.”

            Snart didn’t miss a beat at the sudden change, just nodded back at him.  “It makes you nervous now?”

            “Yeah.  They… those were the worst… the… the big ones.”

            “They do that right away, or was it just little things at first?”

            Barry shuddered.

            “Only talk about it if you want to.  You don’t have to.”

            Barry shook his head.  “It… a bunch of little tests at first - lots of blood tests… lots… lots of IV’s - different drugs and stuff - shots - they hurt, the shots, they… I don’t know, the shots always hurt a lot, not like regular ones, like- like something in it made to cause pain, or, or do something else.”

            “I bugged your house.”

            Barry was sent reeling, eyes snapping up.  “What?”

            “I bugged your house,” Snart repeated, his voice flat, looking right at him, but with a little frown on his face.

            “Why - why did you - you -”

            “After we saw Mardon that first time.  I bugged your house.  I shut the program down a week later.”

            “Why are you - why are you telling me this?” Barry asked, incredulous.

            “I felt bad about it,” Snart said, “and I figure if you’re telling me this you probably deserve to know that I already know a little of what’s going on.”

            Barry stared at him.  Snart was expecting anger, maybe a yell to get out of his house.  What Barry did instead was much more disturbing.

            He laughed.

            Slowly, dry at first, but then to almost hysterical.

            “Scarlet?” Len said, starting to feel uneasy.

            “You - you tell me - you kidnap my friends, shoot people with ice, but you draw the line - you draw the line at - at”  Barry kept laughing.

            But Len was peeved now.  He gave Barry a look.  “I do have some moral code,” he said.

            “Yeah, yeah, no torture, I got that,” Barry said, “no torture, but killing’s fine.”

            “There’s things a lot worse than dying, Scarlet,” Snart said in a dark tone.  That shut Barry up fast.  He went to staring at him again, but then Len sighed.  “I don’t kill people either anyway.”

            “Now.”

            “No, never.”

            “You killed that guy with the cold gun the first time you got it, what are -”

            “I wasn’t trying to kill him.”

            “You… you aimed right at him.”

            “I thought you’d get there first.  I was trying to distract you.  I knew you’d save them - I miscalculated.”

            Barry just stared at him for a moment.

            “It’s still on me,” Snart said, “I’m not trying to get out of it.  I killed him.  But if we’re playing jury, then it was technically manslaughter.  Very guilty manslaughter, but manslaughter.”

            “You don’t kill people.”

            “No.  Not intentionally.  Unless they attack me first, in which case all bets are off.”

            Barry stared at him for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed.  “What exactly _is_ your moral code?”

            Len sighed.  “Really, Red.”

            Barry kept looking expectantly at him.

            Len sighed again.  “No intentionally killing.  I don’t hurt children.  Or animals.  No torture, no rape.  Innocents who don’t get in my way I won’t go after.  I don’t steal from the poor.  That’s about it.”

            “You’re all about the job,” Barry said.

            Len smiled.  “Yep.”

            “You’ve tried to kill me.”

            “If I had tried to kill you, then you’d be dead.”

            “What do you call shooting at me?”

            “A distraction.”

            Barry glared at him.  “Well it was a really fucking painful distraction.”

            Len smiled again.  “You get in my way, I have no qualms with hurting you.  I might not try to kill anyone, but a little collateral damage is to be expected.”

            “Collateral damage,” Barry muttered.

            Len smiled again.  “You’re little trick crossing the guns lines wasn’t exactly comfortable either, Scarlet.”

            “You had that coming,” Barry said, “you kidnapped my friend.  You strapped her to a bomb!”

            “You’re exaggerating.”

            “No, I’m not.  I remember!”

            “And she’s fine, isn’t she.”

            Barry glared some more.  “So what does this fall under?”

            Len frowned.  “Does what fall under what?”

            “This,” Barry said, gesturing with his hands around them, “fall under your little list of things thou shalt not do.”

            Len frowned at him.  “You make it sound like this grand rules to live by thing.”

            “It’s not?”

            Len blinked at him, and then leaned back.  “Do you detail out everything you will not do in writing, Scarlet?”

            “What - no, but -”

            “And neither do I.  Just, everyone has lines.  Those are mine.”

            “Hm,” Barry said, thinking that over, “you still didn’t answer my question.”

            “What question was that?”

            “Here, this.  What does this fall under.”

            “It doesn’t fall under anything.  I’m just here.”

            “Why?”

            “Because someone has to make sure that leg of yours doesn’t just fall off.”

            “Caitlin checked it,” he said, frowning.

            “Look, do I really need a reason for every slightly not horrible thing I do?  Can you just take it that I wanted to make sure you were OK?”

            Barry frowned again, but his eyes were working, taking him in, calculating.  Len sighed.

            “Look, Scarlet, not everything I do is a full blown evil scheme.  You helped me out with Mardon, you got hurt in the process.  I owe you.  So you can put away the dagger eyes already, OK?  Just tell me to go and I’ll leave.  I just wanted to check that you weren’t one leg short now.”

            Barry relaxed a little.  “OK,” he said.

            “You want me to go?”

            “N- I… no, no not really,” he said, ducking down.

            “That’s fine, Scarlet.”

            “I should.”

            “Because I’m a terrible rotten criminal, right?”

            “Because you’ve repeatedly shot at me, kidnapped my -”

            “Oh, bla, bla, bla, we’ve been over this Scarlet.”

            Barry glared a little bit.  “Because my foster father is a cop and down the stairs and you’re a wanted criminal and I could lose my job just for talking to you like this.”  He thought for a moment.  “And because you’re a terrible rotten criminal.”

            Snart snorted and Barry smiled, the tension draining away a little more.  They were quiet for a minute, and Barry fidgeted with the IV line again, his fingers playing with the wire, the tape on his arm.

            “You gonna be OK with that?” Snart asked.

            Barry winced.  “I hate these things.”

            “Not an answer, Scarlet.”

            “Oh, now you’re taking that line?”

            Snart smiled and Barry sighed.

            “I don’t want it in,” Barry said quietly.  “I don’t think I can sleep with it.  I’m so tired, Len.”

            Snart sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, the stops on the highway replaying in his mind, Barry’s fearful cries and the trembling shaking fear at each stop.  “Yeah, I know, kid.  Why don’t you just close your eyes.”

            Barry looked obviously uncomfortable with the idea.  He fidgeted some more, played with the IV line and wouldn’t look up at Snart.

            “It’s alright, Barry,” Len said.          

            “You’re not gonna rob us as soon as I fall asleep?”

            Len snorted another laugh.  “No, Scarlet, I’m not going to rob you.  Don’t have anything worth stealing anyway.”

            Barry stopped to glare at him and Len grinned again.  “Close your eyes,” he said.

            Barry let out a sigh and closed his eyes, settling down agains thte bed.  Len carefully took his hand and drew it away from the IV line, bringing it down onto the bed instead.  He let his fingers drift up his arm, calming.

            “Can you keep talking?” Barry said quitly.  “Like before?  Just… just talk to me?”

            “Yeah, Scarlet, I can do that,” Len said, still tracing his fingers over his arm.  “I’m right here.  You’re home.  You’re gonna be fine.”  He kept going, rambling off soothing phrases and reassurances.  

Barry was gone in a matter of minutes, exhausted, and Len stopped.  He stood up, moved the desk chair back, and took one last look at the kid.  He looked even younger when he was asleep, and right now he looked very vulnerable, with the dark cirlces under his eyes and the IV line in his arm.  Len walked back to the window and slipped outside.  He leaned up against the roof of the house and closed his eyes, and for the first time allowed himself to acknowledge the growing swirl of uneasiness and concern that had been developing in his concious for a while now.  He closed his eyes and let his back hit the roof.

            Oh, he was so fucked.

  
  


            Barry didn’t see anything of Len for the next two weeks.  He waited, half holding his breath the whole time, to encounter him on some heist, for him to betray him like he had before, use his newfound knowledge of Barry’s fears against him somehow, but it didn’t come.

            Caitlin finished out his antibiotics and within a day his leg was completely healed, just a thin scar from the ordeal.  He went back to work, got a medical excuse for the days he missed.  

            He had to have another blood test.  He freaked out, predictably, tried to stall it, and it ended up being much worse than it should have been, even for him.  He had a major panic attack while they were trying to get him in the door to Star labs.  His vision blacked out and he vomited before shaking so bad that he started vibrating.  After that he started crying hysterically, saying he couldn’t go in after a panic attack that bad and begging them for water.  He ended up running, and Caitlin only got the blood sample by going back to Joe’s house with a med kit and waiting until after he filled every mug, glass, bowl, and pitcher in the house with water.

            But the takeaway was that he was totally cleared of any infection and Caitlin was very worried about his sudden loss of vision when he had panic attacks.  She agreed they were probably a psychosomatic result, but wanted to run tests - tests that every one of them knew Barry wouldn’t like.  And that was how he ended up getting roped into the therapist.

            Barry was pissed.  The only reason he even agreed to see a therapist was, well, because he didn’t think they’d actually find anyone.  He agreed to see someone, but under several conditions.  That being, it couldn’t be any therapist he had seen previously, as a child (there had been a lot), it couldn’t be some old croon who asked about his “feelings,” they had to live within walking distance from Joe’s, Star labs, or the CCPD (“Barry you can run anywhere in the city in seconds, why the hell does it matter tha-”), it had to be a highly rated psychologist who specialized in cognitive therapy and trauma, it had to be a female doctor (“it just does, OK, Iris, it’s just easier - yeah, I know it’s sexist, OK, I’m sorry, I can’t help it”)  and they needed to have very, very flexible office hours.  And when Barry was done listing all those requirements, he was practically positive that they would never find him a therapist.

            What he wasn’t expecting was for Iris and Joe to argue with him and then for Caitlin to quietly write down a name and phone number on a peice of paper and then hand it to him.

            “What’s this?”

            “My therapist’s number.”

            “Your - what?”

            “My therapist.  After Ronnie, I saw a therapist for a little while.  Her name’s Dr. Davidson, she’s very nice, her office is two blocks from here, she’s good with trauma victims, and I highly recommend her.”

            Barry blinked, and Iris plucked the piece of paper out of his hands.  She looked down, and then back up at Caitlin.

            “Perfect,” Iris said, smiling.  She turned back to Barry.  “I’ll make you an appointment.”

            He had backtracked, tried to get out of it, mentioned how expensive it was (apparently his insurance covered it) that he didn’t have time (it was only once a week for an hour) that Flash business would interfere (you can reschedule) that the fact that he was the Flash would interfere with talking (the phobias could be discussed without mentioning the Flash) and finally just pleaded that he hated therapists and didn’t want to talk about this to some random stranger.

            That didn’t get him very far.  He had an appointment for next Tuesday before the night was over.  And then Caitlin broke the news that she needed him back later that week for some testing on his vision.  She decided not to mention that she’d need another blood sample too.

            All in all Barry was considering it a very crappy week.  In the two days between Caitlin talking to him and the actual testing Barry managed to thoroughly tie himself up in knots about it.  He was so nervous at work that day that he dropped two test tubes, filled out the wrong paperwork, and forgot his bag at home.  Singh sent him home before noon.

            Which was probably just worse for him.  Joe and Iris were both working, and he couldn’t call Cisco or Catilin, because they were the exact ones he was trying to avoid, and so he wound up pacing through the living room and kitchen of Joe’s house.

            _I should just go, he thought, I should just go and get it over with._  But he didn’t.  He looked at the clock, knew he should just go now instead, and continued pacing.  He knew it was just going to work himself up more, and he knew that there was no point waiting around at his house until five, the appointment time, but he couldn’t get himself to walk out the door or make the call to tell them he was ready now.

            And then a nagging compulsion started up in the back of his mind, an itch he couldn’t ever seem to scratch, and he all about started crying in frustration because he did not need this now.

            _Just the cups, just the glass ones,_ he thought, decided on.  He immediatly burst to the kitchen and turned the tap on, started filling them up.

It calmed him, the motions of it.  Grab a glass, tap, fill, place on kitchen island, repeat.  He went systematically, slowly watching the water pool up.  He let out a long breath and started to feel like he could breathe again, the water sitting in the cups acting like a security blanket.  Every time he started to tense up again all he had to do was look at the kitchen island and the rows of water filled glass and he could breathe again.

There was water.  He was fine.  He was safe.  He wasn’t in that room, on the table, he was home and there was plenty of water and food and it was sitting right there for him, plenty of it, everything was fine.

When he finished the glasses he paused, tense, looking at the water.   _The mugs, he decided, just the mugs too, then I’ll stop - I’ll stop right after the mugs._  

So he filled all of those up as well, slower this time, because he didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to have to stop.  It was a nagging anxiety in the back of his head and he didn’t want to stop but at the same time the longer he kept going the worse it got, like scratching an itch only for the sensation to worsen and then suddenly you’ve scraped off the skin and it’s bleeding as well.  He knew he had to stop and he wanted to, wanted to but didn’t think he could, and when all the mugs were done he practically ran to the living room and sat down, his muscles tense, hands clenched together.  He stared straight ahead to keep from looking at the kitchen.

_I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this._

He felt absolutely rattled and tense and he wanted to call Iris, but if he called Iris she would come home and she had already taken so many days off to stay with him and he felt guilty already.  He couldn’t call Joe because he was already home and he didn’t want Singh and everyone else at the CCPD to know just how bad off he really was.  He thought of calling Caitlin but she’d probably try and get him to go early and he didn’t want to do that, really didn’t want to do that and if he called Cisco he’d probably tell Caitlin and oh God he didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t want to be alone, and he was spiraling.  He could tell by now, the beginnings of a panic attack, the racing in his mind that had gotten so much worse after the lightning.  Everything was spinning and he needed desperately for something to ground him, anything, but didn’t know what to do.  His head felt like it was going to explode, an increasing pressure just building and building and he was trembling again, but he didn’t know why this time, because it wasn’t panic, not panic exactly, more like everything was going by impossibly fast and his thoughts racing until he’d do anything to make it be quiet.

 _I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do._  The distress was mounting, the feeling of being helpless and trapped.  He needed to get out, he couldn’t breathe.  He opened his phone and thumbed through the contacts.

 _Eddie, he thought finally, Eddie, I’ll call Eddie._  Eddie wouldn’t make him go see Caitlin early and he couldn’t remember if he was at work or not but people wouldn’t immediately associate him with Barry if Eddie left.  He’d call Eddie - Eddie would talk him down, he just needed someone to talk him down.  His vision was blurring a bit and he was breathing hard, and he had to blink to see the contacts, his fingers shaking.  He hit call.

“Hello?”

Barry froze.  That wasn’t Eddie.  That wasn’t Eddie, that wasn’t Eddie, who did he call?  
            “Um, um, wrong number, sorry I -”

“Scarlet?”

Seriously.  Seriously.  That was all Barry could think.  He had to misdial Captain Cold of all people.  He looked down.  Why did he put Snart in as Cold in his phone?  Why?  Eddie, Cold - E and C - why?  He should have put Len, or Leonard or Snart or anything but something that started with a C and his fucking shaking fingers could screw up.

“Yeah, sorry, wrong number, I -”

“Are you OK?”

“I - I uh, I um -”

“I’m coming over.”

“You’re - what?”

“I’m coming over.  You’re at your house?”

“Yes, but -”

“Stay there.”

He hung up.

Barry stared at the phone, wondered briefly if he should still call Eddie, and then decided not to.  Instead he sat on the couch flipping his phone between his fingers for a good twenty minutes before he heard the engine of a motorcycle outside and then there was a knock and Snart was walking inside.

“I locked the door,” Barry said numbly.

“I pick locks,” Snart said, walking over to him.  “What’s wrong?”

“You pick locks,” Barry repeated, his mind still whirring.  “I would have answered it.”

“I’m sure you would - now, tell me what’s wrong, Scarlet.”

“I - I have to have tests.”

“Tests?”  He sat down next to Barry on the couch and Barry looked away, trying to block out the alarm that Leonard Snart was sitting on his living room couch becauce that was not actually his biggest worry right now and he was in no state to do anything about that even if he wanted to anyway.

“I - my vision - how it blacks out.  They want to run tests.”

“When?”

“Today.”

“What time?”

“Five.”

“Oh, five?  You’ve got plenty of time, Scarlet, that’s not for hours.”

“It’s in four hours,” Barry said, looking at the clock, “And eight minutes.”  He put his head in his hands, shaking.  “And I can’t do it.”

“What do you have to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you ask?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Maybe it’s not that bad.”

“It’s bad.”

“You just said you don’t even know what the tests are.”

“It’ll be bad.”

“Scarlet.”

“It’s all bad.”

“It can’t all be bad.”

“It’s all bad.”

“You’re being obstinate.”

Barry glared.

Len laughed.  “It’ll be fine, Scarlet - you’ll be fine.  Your friend going with you?  Iris?”

Barry’s stomach twisted.  He shook his head.  “She’s working.”

“Detective West?”

Barry shook his head.

Len frowned.  “You’re friends with Caitlin right?  And Ramon?”

“Yeah,” Barry said, twisting the edge of his shirt, “but they get… they get all… doctory.”

“Doctory,” Len repeated, but he looked thoughtful.

“They try to help but they… I don’t know, I associate them with… I guess I’ve started associating them with… with the pain, and the, the panic attacks and everything… especially Caitlin.”

“That’s understandable,” Len said, nodding, and then he looked over.  “Do you associate that with me?”

Barry looked at him. “I associate you with winter and burglaries - there wasn’t much room left for medical trauma.”

Len snorted.  “Alright,” he said, “I’ll go with you.”

Barry blanched.  “You can’t go with me.”

“Sure I can.”

“Cisco and Caitlin -”

“I’ll ignore them.”

“You - I can’t bring -”

“I wasn’t asking,” Len said, getting up.  He looked back while going into the kitchen.  “You got any beer?”

  
  
  


Snart took one step inside and forgot about the beer.

            He stared at the kitchen island for a full five seconds.  That was about as long as it took him to figure out what it was.

            “Scarlet?”

            “They’re in the back -”

            “Could you come here?”

            A second later and Barry was standing next to him, looking agitated.

            “It’s really not that hard to find…” he started, and then trailed off as Len crossed his arms in front of him, giving him a look and standing next to the kitchen island.

            Barry blushed.  “It… um, yeah, that…”

Len pursed his lips.  “How about I help you empty them.”

Barry paled just a bit.  “Um, I - can we just… just leave them?”

Len looked back over.  “I think you should empty them,” he said firmly.

“I… I can’t,” Barry said helplessly, wringing the edge of his shirt in his fingers again.

Snart gave him another look.  Barry started feeling restless.  Whenever he had done this before, Joe and Iris had waited until he went to bed, or until he had left, and then emptied them when he wasn’t there.  He felt bad about it, because he made a mess they had to clean up, but he couldn’t stand the idea of doing it himself, of pouring them all down the drain.  It made him jittery, tense just thinking about it.  It made him want to fill up more.

Len took one of the glasses, and then walked over to the sink to dump it out.  Barry lunged forward.

“Don’t!”

Len paused.  “Scarlet,” he said, his tone deceptively calm.

“I… I can’t Len, not - not right now,” he said.

“Scarlet,” Len said.  He flicked on the tap and gestured to it.  “Plenty of water.  Not going anywhere.  You want some?”

Barry nodded, and Len grabbed a glass off the kitchen island, a tall one, and handed it to him.  He raised one eyebrow in warning though.

“ _Sips_ ,” he said.

Barry took the glass wordlessly, taking slow sips from it, feeling the cool water on his lips and then sliding down his throat.  He kept the glass on his mouth, never leaving.

“How about, you,” Len said, grabbing a chair and moving it over to where Barry was standing, watching him, “sit right there, and I’ll put these away.”

“Len,” Barry said, a whine in his voice, feeling uneasy.  He didn’t want to let all that water slip down the drain, lose it all.  He let the anxiety show on his face.

“Keep sipping your water,” Len said, “when it’s empty, you can fill it back up.  There’ll be plenty of water.  It’s all in the pipes, you don’t need it out here.”  With the words he picked up two glasses and dumped them out.  Then he paused for Barry’s reaction, making sure it wasn’t going to be too much.

It wasn’t, but Barry didn’t like it.  He took another sip, a bit bigger this time, more like a gulp.   _It’s fine, I have water, it’s right here, it’s fine._ He took a deep breath, and then another quick, nervous swallow as Len dumped out another glass.

“Keep sipping,” Len said, “you’re fine.  There’s plenty of water, and as soon as you’re done you can have some more.  Plenty of water.”  He dumped out another glass and Barry took a deep breath.  Len watched him carefully, and then paused at the kitchen island.  “Barry,” he said, his voice soft, “if it’s too much just tell me and I’ll stop, but I think you can do this.”

Barry took in a shaky breath.   _I think you can do this._  And what was this, exactly?  Watching Len dump out the glasses and mugs he had filled.  It was nerve-wracking, but as Len kept going, and he kept sipping, he started to relax.  Because even while Len was dumping out the water, he was taking another sip.  Len dumped out the water, but he still had some.  He still had some, even when the water he could see with his eyes was disappearing.

And when he finished it, his body suddenly tensing as the water ran out, and he raised panicked eyes to Len’s, Len merely gestured at the tap, and Barry walked stiffly over, and refilled his glass, even as Len dumped out another one.

After that, it was better.  Every time Len dumped out another glass, Barry would take a sip, and it was like it was cementing the fact that he could still have water even without the stock pile set up with every sip he took.  By the end of it, he was breathing fine, almost relaxed, and Len put a hand around his shoulder and took him quietly back to the couch.

Barry breathed in deeply.  Len rubbed his shoulder as they sat down.  “That was good,” he said, looking over at Barry, “you did really good, Scarlet, really good.  You feeling OK?”

Barry nodded blankly.  He did.  He felt OK.  He didn’t feel good, very far from good, but he was OK, felt better actually then he did before Len dumped out all the cups, even if it had been a stressful experience.  He felt a little drained, a little tired, but better now.

“You wanna take a nap?”

Barry nodded, and when Len moved, so Barry’s feet were in his lap and he was lying down on the couch, he barely took any notice.  Len traced a finger over his ankle, just above his sock, in a nameless pattern, and Barry closed his eyes.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will have more up very shortly but I will be posting the next part in this series while still working on this part shortly - once I explain a couple of things in this one. One or two chapters more. Len is starting to acknowledge that he may have some not so platonic feelings for Barry. Barry's mind on the other hand is not exactly on romantic endeavors, so it's going to take him a bit longer. But Len's about to get much more supportive. Also, I'll be touching on some more heavy stuff soon. I'll put the warnings in the chapter summaries. This part isn't going to go in depth to it, but there will be some non-con and mental health issues in following fics of this series, as well as vague/implied/small references in this one. I have two fics planned, one with more graphic non con, one with in depth mental health problems - but I'll keep it confined to those two for the most part because I know they can be very triggering for some people. There will be clear warnings at the beginning of any chapters with these topics in them. Once again, thank you for reading, and I hope you're enjoying the story! :)


	10. Yes You Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len makes Barry go to the doctors, aka Star labs.

When he woke up the first thing he did was look at the clock, and when he did he jumped up so fast that he startled Len out of the doze he was enjoying, sitting up on the couch.

“It’s four o’clock,” he said, alarm ringing in his voice.

Len yawned.  “It’s three thirty eight,’ he said.

“It’s almost four,” Barry said, breaking out in tremors.

“You have almost an hour and a half, Barry, relax,” Len said, stretching now.

“That’s not enough time!”

“Not enough time for what, exactly?”

Barry ignored him.

“Not enough time to work yourself into a fit?”

Barry turned around and glared at him.  He resumed pacing.

“Sit down, Scarlet.”

“No.”

“Barry.”

“No.”

“Running around the house isn’t going to help you relax.”

“Yes it is.”

“Really?”  His voice was laced with sarcasm.

“I’m working off energy,” Barry snapped.

“You’re working yourself into a fit.”

“Am not,” Barry mumbled.

“Barry, come sit down.  Relax. You need to calm down, you were doing good earlier, come on.”

Barry shook his head, stubbornly pacing.  

“If you really need to work off some energy,” Snart said, “then you should go for a run, not pace around your living room.”

“I don’t want to go for a run,” he said.

“Of course not.”

Barry shot him a look.

Barry kept pacing, getting more and more distressed, his mind running faster and faster until he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to do at all.

“Do you want help, or not?” Len said, and Barry paused.  He gave Len a pathetic look and Len just raised an eyebrow.  “Well?”

“Yes.”

“Then come here.”

So Barry went and sat back down next to him.  Len let out a breath.  “Good,” he said, “now start taking some deep breaths.”

Barry did, copying Len as he took deep, steady breaths.

“Good,” Len said once he had managed to slow his breathing down.  He had placed a hand on his knee, calm, reassuring.  “Now relax your shoulders.  Come on, Scarlet, more than that.  Come on.  There - good.  Now your arms.  That’s it.  Take a deep breath.”  And he kept going, from his shoulders to his arms to his hands, and down, his chest, thighs, calves, his neck, back, until Barry was as limp as he was going to get on his own, his eyes closed, breathing evenly, finally.

“That’s good,” Len said, quietly.  “Real good, Scarlet.”

They stayed like that until Barry started to shift, opening up his eyes again.

“What do you want to do after?” Len asked.

“After?”

“After the tests?  What do you want to do afterwards?”

“I dunno,” Barry said, mumbling, “cry.”

Len frowned at him.  “Pick something,” he said, “something to look forward to, a reward for getting through it.”

“I’ll probably just want to go home and sleep,” Barry said, still mumbling, “maybe crawl under a rock.”

Len kept frowning.  “Pick something fun,” he said, “something you want to do.”

“I dunno,” Barry said again, “i don’t usually want to do anything afterwards.”

“Well you’re going to this time.  What do you want to do?  Go out to eat, get ice cream, go to the movies, pick something,” Len said.

“Maybe a movie,” Barry said finally.

“Great, which one?”

Barry shrugged.  Len frowned.  He looked around for a minute, before spotting Barry’s bag and grabbing it, pulling out his laptop from it before Barry could protest.

“What are you doing?”

“Password?”

Barry took the laptop and typed it in.  He glared at Len some more.

“What movie do you want to see?” Len asked again.  When Barry shrugged he started rattling off titles from a list on the computer, until Barry finally picked one, an action thriller that he hadn’t had time to go see yet and which he’d seen commercials for and been intrigued.

“Great,” Len said, “it’s playing at seven thirty.  You should be done by then, and if you really are feeling shitty after then it’ll give you time to take a quick nap or just calm down afterwards.  I’ll order tickets.  Where’s your printer?”

Barry looked at him baffled.  Len just kept going.  He heard the sound of the printer in the kitchen going off.

“You wanna call one of your friends and see if they’ll go with you?” Len asked.

Barry stared.  “You’re not going?”

Len stared back.  “Do you want me to?”

Barry flushed red.  “Well, it just… you… you’re being really -  really nice, and…”

Len rolled his eyes.  “I thought we’ve been over this, Scarlet, I don’t just sit in a cave and think about my evil schemes all day, I do -”

“I just meant you should at least - let me pay for the tickets and you… you know, as a thank you,” Barry said.

“Alright,” Len said, thinking it over, “you owe me twenty bucks.”  He looked back over.  “But money isn’t really a problem for me.”

Barry flushed again.  Of course it wasn’t.  Then Len looked foward and got up suddenly.

“Alright,” he said, “time to go.”

Barry looked at the clock and his stomach dropped.  It was twenty to five.

Barry shook his head.  “No,” he said, his stomach twisting.  He didn’t have anything else to say, just no, no he didn’t want to go, no, don’t make him do this.

“Come on,” Snart said, “we’ll take the bike.”  He got a hand around Barry’s shoulder and more or less pushed him out the door.  “Come on,” he said, “gonna take us a while to get there in this traffic anyway, come on.”

“You don’t have an extra helmet,” Barry said numbly, watching as Snart grabbed one.

“You can take it,” he said, “it’s not illegal.”

 _That’s the law he worries about, sure,_ Barry thought bitterly, but took the helmet and slipped it on.

“I don’t want to go,” Barry said, one last plead, “can’t -”

“No,” Len said, and with that took off.

Barry wrapped his hands around Len’s stomach, different from the last time he rode with him.  He still found himself resting his forehead on his shoulder though, if only this time to stop the dizzying anxiety.  All too soon he was stopping, and they were at Star labs.

“Len,” Barry said, feeling the nervousness get worse, go up a few more notches as he looked at the building.  He was already imagining terrible experiments to his eyes.  That at least they had never done.  He shuddered to think of it, was sure he would have gone mad if they had done that too, wouldn’t have been able to take it.  The worst they had done as far as vulnerable parts went… well he didn’t really want to think about that either.

“Come on Scarlet, it’ll be fine,” Len said, taking his shoulder and guiding him towards the stairs.

“Wait,” Barry said frantically, digging in his heels, “wait, Len, wait, stop.”

He did, and Barry panted, looking around frantically.  He was scared, looking for a way out.

“Scarlet,” Len said gently, “just relax.  Take a deep breath.  These people are your friends.  They’re not going to hurt you.”

Barry made a noise in his throat.  “It’ll hurt though, i don’t want to.”

“You can handle it,” Len said, nodding like he really believed it.  “You let me put in stitches, whatever pain you might have to undergo today you can handle.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to,” Barry said, but his words were calming him a little bit.  He could handle it.  The reassurance was calming.

“No,” Len said, “I know, Scarlet.”  He was rubbing his back.  “It’s not going to be fun.  Just think about afterwards, OK?  We’ll grab something to eat and then go see that movie.”

Barry shook his head.  “I’ll be sick.”

“Well, you will if you keep thinking like that,” Len said.  When Barry still refused to budge he sighed.  “Look, kid, this is about the blacking out when you panic, right?  Well, you want that to stop, right?  So maybe this is a good idea, huh?”

Barry looked at him doubtfully.

“You have to get it done, either way,” Len said, “so just try and stay calm.  It’s your friends.  It’ll be fine.”  And he gave him a firm shove, and Barry was forced to take a step forward, and Len kept a hand over his back, forcing him to keep going.

By the time they got to the front door Barry was whimpering, looking absolutely terrified, but he was also gripping Len’s wrist.

“Barry,” Len said, his voice hard.  “Calm down.  We’re just going inside.  You go into Star Labs all the time.  Take a deep breath, and calm yourself down.  Everything’s fine.  I’m right here, OK?  We’ll stay right here until you calm down a little, but you’ve got to try for me.”

It took him a few minutes, but he managed to steady his breathing, and chase out the worst of the dizziness.

And then they walked in.

And Barry had almost, almost forgot how this was going to look, but his stomach still did a little flip when they walked in and Caitlin froze and Cisco looked up and stared.

Barry rubbed at his eyes.  “Can you just ask questions later, please?”

“Um, dude, that’s - you know Captain Cold is like, practically hugging you, right?”

Barry sighed.  He guessed now was not the time to mention Captain Cold actually had hugged him.  “Yeah, Cisco,” he said, “just - can you just get the tests done with.”

Caitlin stayed frozen for a few more seconds, and then she burst into action, like Len wasn’t even there.  Meanwhile Len stared at Cisco until he ducked his head, mumbling something about keeping freinds close.

  
  


 

“No,” Barry said desperetly.

“Scarlet,” Len said, his arms folded in front of him.

“I can’t, Len.”

“Barry.”

“I can’t, it’s too much like it, I can’t.”

“Stop saying you can’t,” Len said, his voice hard, “you can.  You don’t want to.  You can say you don’t want to, but don’t say you can’t.”

Barry’s face screwed up, panicked, and angry now.  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Scarlet,” Len said, a warning in his voice, “I’m not telling you not to say it because you have to have it done, I’m telling you not to say it because if you change your thinking it’ll help you calm down.  You keep telling yourself you can’t do it and you’ll work yourself into a panic attack.”

“Fine, I don’t want to, I don’t want to do it,” he said, angrily, and frightened.  He kept looking determinedly at Len or at the ground, at the door, anywhere but at the machine to his left.

The first tests had been easy.  Which way is the E pointed, read the letters off the chart, what does that poster say.  They had determined his vision normally was fine.  He didn’t wear glasses, didn’t need them.

And now they wanted a brain scan.

“I’m not doin-”

“ _Scarle_ -”

“I don’t want to do it, I don’t want to and I won’t - I won’t do it.”

“ _Stop it_ ,” Len said, and Barry froze.  There was real anger on Len’s face for the first time since… Barry didn’t know.  The expression melted a bit, but stayed stern.  “You’re being obstinate,” Len said, “you have to get it done.  Stop saying you won’t, or that you can’t, or that you’re not going to.  You have to do it.  Say you don’t want to, or tell me what you need, or take a break if you need that, but stop saying you’re not doing it, you’re making it harder for yourself when you think like that - it’s going to make you panic more.”

Logically, Barry knew he was right.  It was textbook cognitive psychology.  That didn’t mean he didn’t find it completely frustrating and scary and unwanted.

“But what - I - I -” Barry struggled to think of something to say besides _I can’t do it_.  

“Breathe, Scarlet,” Len said, holding his shoulders now, moving his hands up and down.  “Breathe.  Tell me what’s going on.”

“I - I -”  He couldn’t figure it out, couldn’t put words to it, was struggling to come up with it.

“Just tell me what’s wrong with this - why do you not want to do it.”

“I - because it - it’s like the table.”

“The table they put you on?”

Barry nodded, trembling, still shaking a little from anger and frustration.  Len kept calmly rubbing his shoulders, both hands on them, nodding the whole time.

“It’s not the table, Barry.”

“I _know_ that, but -”

“It feels like it.”

“Yeah,” Barry said, deflating a little bit, stealing a glance over at the MRI machine.

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“ _No_ ,” Barry said, scowling.

Len gave him a look.

“Yes,” Barry said, looking away, “a little.  Just… just a little.”

“OK,” Len said, “what else is wrong with it?”

Barry squirmed.  “It’s just - it’s - it’s loud, and it’s like the table, and I - I don’t -”

“It’s overwhelming,” Len said, nodding.

“Yeah,” Barry said, stealing another glance over.  “And it’s - it’s long, I have to be in there for -”

“I know, it’s a long time,” Len said, “but they’ll have music for you to listen to.  All you have to do is lie there, Barry.”

“I have to stay still,” he said, urgently again, “Len I can’t -”

“Barry.”

“I was going to say I can’t stay still, I can’t stay still that long.”

“Yes you can,” Len said firmly, “it might be uncomfortable for you, but you can.  You will.  You’ll live, and it’ll be fine.”

“Len -”

“You’re gonna do fine, Scarlet.”

“I’m not, I’m - I’m scared.  I - I -”

“It’s OK,” Len said, “you want me to talk you through it?”

“Y-yeah,” Barry said, nodding.

“Alright,” Len said, “I can’t be in the room, though.”

Barry’s face fell, and he was shaking his head.  “N-no, Len, no, not - alone, I - no, please, no, I can’t, no, not alone, no I -”

“You won’t be alone,” Len said, “Barry, look at me.”  Barry raised his eyes slowly.  He was close to tears.  “I’ll be right there, right through the glass, and I’ll talk to you, OK?  I’ll talk you through it.”

“God, fucking- Len, no.”

“It’ll be alright, Scarlet - hey, look at me.”  Barry looked up again, eyes drifting down before finally raising again. “You’re just lying down,” Len said steadily.  “You’re just lying down, and I know it feels like the table, and you’re a little claustrophobic, but there’s no needles, nothing tying you down, no scalpels or stitches or anything else medical.  You’re just lying down still inside a big machine.  You can do it.  You just have to think of it as that.  Not something medical, not like the table, just lying down in a big machine.  OK?”

Barry nodded, eyes down again, looking like he was going to cry.

“Alright,” Len said, giving him one last pat on his shoulder.  “I’m gonna send Caitlin in, OK?”

Len walked out of the room, and nodded at Caitlin, who was waiting by the door.  He took a seat in the observation area, ignoring the looks Cisco was giving him.  Two minutes later Caitlin was back, but she had a weary look on his face, and Len looked through the glass to see Barry still sitting up, arms crossed.  He sighed.

“He won’t let me place the coil over his head,” she said, directing it at Len.

“What’s the coil?”

He followed her into the room.  Barry looked down when Len entered, shuddering.  She had out what looked kind of like a round plastic cage with an opening at either end.

“He has to have his head in that?” Len asked.

Caitlin nodded, and Barry wouldn’t look up.

Len turned to Barry.  “Alright,” he said, “this isn’t that different, Scarlet.  It’s a little closer to your face, but it’s still just lying on a table in a machi-”

“I am _not_ putting my head in that thing.”

Len sighed.  “Scarlet.”

“No,” Barry said, not looking up, shaking.  “I’m not doing that.  And don’t tell me not to say that because I mean it – I mean it, I’m not doing it, I won’t do that.  It’s not happening.”

“Scarlet, you need to calm down.  This isn’t that scary.”

“It’s like the blindfold.”

“No it isn’t,” Len said calmly, “it’s nothing like the blindfold at all.  You can keep your eyes open fine.  It goes around your head.  It’s more like a funny hat then a blindfold.”

Len was exaggerating, perhaps being a bit ridiculous with the comparison, but he stuck to it anyway, adamantly insisting that it was nothing like the blindfold while Barry argued, shaking and shying away from both him and Caitlin the whole time.  They went back and forth for a while, Len telling him it was just another part of the machine, that it was no different, that it didn’t restrict movement (not strictly true) and it didn’t restrict his vision (very true) so it wasn’t even a concern.  It was perfectly fine.  Barry insisted he couldn’t do it with the coil involved, that it was just too much.  When Caitlin said it was needed, he started denying the need for an MRI at all, saying it was just a psychosomatic response, so it wasn’t necessary at all, that he was fine.  Caitlin calmly explained that they had to check, that she needed to run the tests to make sure, and Barry stared at the ground while Len kept insisting that the coil was no big deal.

Eventually they got him into it, but only after Len took his hand and Caitlin promised to stop if he said he was too scared.  At first he squeezed his eyes shut, didn’t want to see the cage-like thing around his head, but eventually the dark caused him to panic more, and he opened his eyes.  They kept him out of the machine, Len coaching him through his breathing and squeezing down on his hand, for a few minutes, letting him relax.  Caitlin rubbed his shoulder and told him everything she was going to do, explained the details of the machine and how it worked, and the words calmed him down some – part of it the knowledge of what was actually going on and part of it just the calm tone of voice Caitlin spoke in.  After a while he relented and said he was ready to start.  Caitlin and Snart headed back to the observation room.

“You can sit here,” Caitlin said, gesturing towards one of the seats.  Len sat down and looked at the microphone in front of him.

“Press the button to talk,” Caitlin said, and that was all before she sat down a little ways away from him and started fiddling with the monitors.  She pressed on her own intercom button.

“Barry, I’m going to start sliding you in,” she said, “you can talk, but I need you to stay still besides that.”

“OK,” came the shaky reply, through the speakers on the front counter.

“Take a deep breath, Barry,” Len added, just as the table he lay on started to move.  Barry shuddered.

“We really need you to stay completely still, Barry,” Caitlin said.

“I’m trying,” Barry bit out.

“I’m going to start,” Caitlin said, “you’ll hear a lot of noise, OK?  Just noise though.  I’m going to put your music through too.”

Barry didn’t say anything as the table stilled.  Caitlin pressed a few more buttons.

“Doing great, Scarlet,” Len said.  He couldn’t really see Barry from where he was sitting, the machine blocking any real view, but the kid wasn’t shaking, so that was something.

“I don’t like this,” Barry said, his voice tight.

“What’s wrong with it?” Len asked.

“It’s – it’s too – I don’t want this thing on my head, Len.”

Cisco exchanged a look with Caitlin at the use of his name, but Len ignored them.

“It’s just a hunk of plastic, Barry.  That’s all it is.”

“It’s too loud.”  There was an edge of panic in his voice.

Snart turned to Caitlin.  “Can you turn the music up?”

She nodded, pressed the intercom.  “Do you want me to turn the music up, Barry?”

“Y-yeah.”

“OK, I’m gonna do that.”

She presumably turned the music up, and Barry was quiet for a while.

“How you doing, Scarlet?” Len asked after a while.

“OK,” he said.

“You wanna talk or you wanna keep listening to the music?”

“Music… music is OK for now… I can’t hear you really well.”

“OK, well just let me know if you change your mind.  We’ll turn it down again a little bit.”

Snart ignored the way Cisco kept staring at him for the next ten minutes.  Caitlin was busy with the monitors, and Snart just sat through the boredom, waiting for it to be over.  Caitlin had said they could do it quick, just a half hour, but it was still a long time.

“C-Cait.”

“Yeah, Barry,” Caitlin said, at the microphone again.

“C-can you t-turn the music – turn – t-turn –”

“Yeah, Barry, I got it,” Caitlin said, just as Snart pressed the button to the intercom as well.

“Barry, what’s wrong.”

“I c- I can’t breathe.”

“Sure you can, Scarlet, just slow it down.  Take a deep breath.  What’s wrong?”

“I – I d- I –”

“Alright, OK, just relax.  Can you breathe in for me, Scarlet?  Take a nice deep breath?”  He could hear the inhale through the speakers.  “That’s good,” he said, “that’s really good, Barry, now let it out – slowly, nice and slow.”

“I – I want water,” he said.

“As soon as you’re done, Scarlet,” Len said.

“No, Len, I really – I really want it now.”

“I know kid, we’re almost finished, you’re already halfway done.”

“That’s not – that’s not enough, this – this is too much, it’s too much.”

“No it’s not,” Len said calmly, “you can do this.  You’re doing fine.  You’re just lying still in a big machine.  You can do it.”

Barry argued with him, and Len kept repeating it, reassuring him.  They wasted another five minutes like that, until Len finally got him to calm down and stop insisting that he needed to stop.  And then Len spent another five minutes talking, just talking, with little input from Barry at all, rambling on like he had before when trying to get Barry to fall asleep.  At some point he ran out of things to say and there was a lapse of silence, where Cisco seemed to pick up on what Len was doing, distracting him, and moved over to his own mic with a “hey, Barry, did I tell you about the new GPS system I’m working on?” and launched into an account of the inner workings of the GPS on Barry’s suit.

When it was finally done, and Caitlin moved the table out of the machine and took off the coil around his head, Barry looked exhausted.  His face was pale and he looked incredibly relieved to be done with it.

“OK,” Caitlin said, after Cisco handed him some water.  “I just need one more thing, Barry, and then we’ll be done.”

“OK,” he said, a little wearily, drinking from the water bottle.

“I… it’ll be all done, once we do this,” she said again, “just this one last thing.  I just… I need another blood sample, Barry.”

Barry froze, and then his face crumpled.

“I have to do another?”  His voice was so small it had Len wincing.

“Just one more,” Caitlin said, trying to sound reassuring.  “I’ll get it done really quick, Barry.”

“I don’t – I don’t want another – I don’t, just – fuck, Cait, I don’t want to.”  He was shaking all over.  “I’m going to have a panic attack,” he said, “I’m going to have a panic attack.”

“You’re not going to have a panic attack, Scarlet,” Len said, rubbing his back.  “Just calm down.  It’s going to be fine.”

“No,” Barry said, “no – no blood tests, I – you just took one, Caitlin.  You _just_ took one, can’t – why do you need another one?”

Caitlin started to explain, but Barry didn’t want to listen, just wanted to get out of it.  He twisted around to Len, trying him instead.

“Please,” he said, “I can’t do this – I can’t, it’s – I just can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Len said firmly.  “You can do it fine.”

“Don’t touch me!” Barry yelled when Caitlin lifted the syringe.  He jumped back from where he was sitting on the table, and Len caught him, holding his arm tight so he couldn’t get away, Barry’s back pressed up on his chest. 

“Let go,” Barry said, “Len, let _go_.”

“Are you going to run?” Len said.

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“ _Len_.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“I did.”

“Barry.”

“Let go of me.”

“You need to have the blood test done, kid.  Now pick.  We can do this with me gripping your arm holding you still, or we can do this with you breathing nice and deep while I talk to you.”

“Fuck you.”

Len sighed.

Len had never actually seen Barry this angry in any other context besides the extreme.  Doctor Wells (Eobard Thawne) came to mind, but besides that the only time he’d ever actually seen Barry angry was when he was scared.

And he supposed Barry wasn’t really angry at all then.  He really was just scared, and it was easier to be angry then to be scared, and when you’re terrified Len guessed it was a little easier to be frustrated anyway, already on edge.  But now Barry was struggling against him, pulling away and Len had to jerk his hands behind his back, gripping them hard.  He really didn’t want to have to start twisting, really didn’t want to put Barry in any more pain, even if it was temporary, but he wasn’t going to be able to restrain the kid for long.  Despite what he’d said, he wasn’t really going to just hold him there while Caitlin stuck him with the needle.  He just needed Barry to calm down.

“Scarlet,” he growled, “stop fighting.  _Now_.”

Barry let out an angry noise, made a couple last restless pulls, and then stopped, shaking and fidgeting, but not fighting anymore.  He was breathing fast, way too fast, watching Caitlin, every nerve coiled like a spring.  Len let go of him.

“Hey.”  And he was in front of him, grabbing his arms, his shoulders, crouching so he was looking Barry in the eyes.  “Hey, it’s OK.  It’s OK, Scarlet.”

Barry looked away, dropped his head so Len had to duck, trying to keep eye contact.  Barry trembled, let out a shudder, and then he had his head in his hands and he was crying.

“I c-can’t, I can’t, don’t,” he said, his voice breaking.  “It’s just like it, I don’t – the table, I – I – no, please, no, no please – please, please, please –”

“Shh – shh, Scarlet, it’s OK.  It’s alright.  You’re right here.  You’re right here with me and Cait.  Not the table.  It’s OK.”

“No,” Barry said, “don’t, don’t.”

It took Len another fifteen minutes to calm him down.  Another fifteen minutes of both Len and Caitlin repeating reassurances and telling him that he could do it, that it would only hurt for a second, that it be over so fast.  And the whole time Barry just kept begging them not to, begging them to wait, to just wait until tomorrow, to post pone it just a little bit longer. 

They only managed to get it done at all by having Barry lie on the floor – the floor because it wasn’t raised like the table – on his stomach, and Caitlin working at that awkward angle to get the blood sample while Barry kept his head turned in the opposite direction at Len.  It was a ridiculous set up, but Barry couldn’t see the needle, was as removed from it as he could be without a plastic sheet to block it off, and Barry needed to lie down – Caitlin was afraid he was going to pass out.

When they were finally done, Len walked Barry out of the building, going towards where he left his motorcycle.


	11. A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len outlines a new plan for Barry and medical procedures and Barry has a slight breakdown.

 

“Did you want to get something to eat?” Len asked.

“No.”

“You want to go home before the movie.”

“I don’t want to go to the movie.”

“I think it be good for you.”

“I just wanna go home.”

“It’ll take your mind of it.”

“I feel like shit – I don’t want to go out anywhere, Len.”

“Alright,” Len said, in a tone that certainly said it was not alright.  He drove Barry back, and Barry collapsed on the couch.  Len watched the clock.  They still had an hour before they’d have to get going for the movie.  But when an hour had gone by Barry was still asleep and he looked so dead tired that Len didn’t wake him.  It was another hour before he got up.

“You should probably tell me when that cop foster father is going to be home,” he said idly as Barry stirred.

Barry groaned.  “Not until late.  He said he was going out.”

“Lucky me,” Len said, half to himself, “anyway.”  He cleared his throat.  “I think you need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“A plan.”

“A plan for what?”  Barry was pushing himself up now, sitting up, dragging the blanket with him and shivering.

“You don’t cope very well.”

Barry scowled at him.  “I cope fi-”

“And you don’t have any systems in place to help you get through medical exams.”

“I have plenty of –”

“No you don’t.”

Barry frowned some more.  “Sure I do.”

“Your system is beg to get out of it, hope you don’t run, and everyone else trying to somehow calm you down.”

Barry just glared.  “There’s not really a lot of good options,” he muttered.

“No,” Len said, “but I’m pretty sure you can do better than that.  You need a plan.  A system set in place so that when something happens you have a way to deal with it.”

Barry looked away.  He fiddled with his hands.  “Maybe I just can’t deal with it,” he mumbled.

“You can,” Len said, “maybe not _well_ – not yet – but you can do better than you are.”

“How?”

Barry looked up at him with despair, a deep hopelessness and a plead for him to say something, to give him the answer.  His face was so open, and so vulnerable, and for a moment Len just paused, taken aback.

“By figuring out what you need,” Len said.

“I don’t know what I need,” Barry mumbled, and that tiny bit of hope that Len had the answer was gone.

“Well, you need a way to deal with the medical stuff,” Len said, “and that will come in time – you’re going to therapy?”

Barry flinched when he said it, and that was all the answer Len needed.

“Good,” he said, “good – that’ll help.  You’ll get better with it slowly, but you need something now, a plan.”

“I don’t know what there is to do but try to breathe and not think,” Barry said, muttering again.

“Hmm,” Len said, “well, it depends on the situation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if you’re bleeding out on the floor, then we really aren’t going to be able to give you much time to relax and work through it,” Len said, “but something like today – you can take your time.  It’s to examine things.  There’s no immediate danger.”  Len thought some more.

“I think a scale,” he said finally, “one to five.  One is you’re dying and we have to do something now, regardless of how panicked you are.  Two is you’re not dying, but you will be if we don’t act.  We can talk you through it a bit more, but it still has to happen quick.  Three is there’s a limited time frame, but it’s not immediate.  You broke a bone, need stitches, something like that.  We can talk about it.  Four is there’s no time frame.  It has to get done, but not necessarily right away.  Like the blood test.  Five, and only fives are the things you can talk about not doing.  Preventative stuff.”

“OK,” Barry said, “but that doesn’t really help me if I don’t know what to do in each one.  I’m still gonna panic whether it’s a one or a five.”

“Well, that’s just to classify it,” Len said, still thinking.  Barry rolled his eyes.  “A five, we talk through.  Obviously.  That one’s easy.  Four we try to get you as calm as possible, talk to you the whole time, move as slow as you want.  But you can’t say you won’t do it.  That’s not going to help.”  He gave him a look and Barry ducked his head, wanted to argue but Len kept going.

“Three is harder.  You need a plan.”

It took Barry a moment to realize Len was looking at him.  “What?”

“What does your therapist say to do in that kind of situation?”

Barry ducked his head again. “I dunno,” he mumbled, “Breathe.  Don’t tense up.  I dunno.”

“Think,” Len said.

Barry was quiet for a moment.  “Ol- umm, the – the Arrow, he said… he found me when I… I um, _didn’t_ , get my wrist set… he said, relax, explain, then work something out…” Barry trailed off. 

“That sounds good,” Len said, “you relax first, focus just on breathing and not tensing up, then explain what you’re afraid of specifically, what you need, if you need water or someone to talk to you or whatever, and then let whoever’s taking care of it tell you exactly what has to be done, and you can tell them if there’s anything specific you need with it.  I think that’s a good idea.  Maybe add another relax on the end of it, there, a couple minutes to breathe again after you work out exactly what you’re doing.”

“Relax, explain, plan, relax,” Barry said.

“REP R”

“Sounds like RIP,” Barry muttered.

Len winced.  “Maybe no on the acronym then.”

Barry laughed, and Len let out a breath.  “No, it’s fine,” Barry said, “just weird.”

“OK,” Len said, “so five is talk, four is relax – we keep you as calm as possible, go as slow as you need.  Three is REP R, and two…”

Barry cringed.  “Two is panic.”

“No,” Len said, frowning, “two… two you need to focus your attention on breathing.  You need to try and stay calm.  That’s your job.  Try and stay calm while whoever’s with you works – but you can say what you need.  Water, blanket, whatever.  We’ll try and talk to you, but we can’t really slow down, so if something happens you say what you need, but otherwise you’re focusing on breathing deep and steady.”

“That’s not much better than how it is now,” Barry said, frowning.

“No,” Len said, “but at least it’s a plan.  Hopefully, you won’t get so overwhelmed that way.  Give you something to focus on, something you’re supposed to be doing.”

“Alright,” Barry said, still frowning but looking a bit more open now.  He tried not to grimace as he said, “What about one?”

Len took a long breath.  “One is… one you breathe, you focus on breathing, and you find someone – and you latch onto them.  Like… like if Caitlin’s working, and I’m there, and you’re awake – you look at me, and I’ll be right there with you, and you just keep your eyes on me.  You focus all your attention on me and on breathing.  That’s it.  Me and breathing.  Or Iris, or Joe, or whoever’s there and you’re most comfortable with.  You find someone, and that’s it.  Block everything else out.”

Barry nodded slowly.  “OK,” he said, “I still… I still don’t really like the idea of that… of… of ones.”  He drew the blanket in tighter.

“I know,” Len said, “it’s an emergency only kind of thing.”

Barry nodded, shuddered.  “But I think… I think that’s probably a good idea… the… focusing.  On one person.  That part.”

Len nodded.  “Good,” he said, “So one through five?”

Barry took a deep breath and nodded.  “Yeah that… that sounds good.  I like… like having a plan.”  He looked up.  “Even if it’s kind of a pathetic plan.”

Len frowned at him, but Barry grinned. “It’s not pathetic.”

“Kind of is,” Barry said, “not much in there besides try to relax and breathe.”

Len scowled.  “I put a lot of thought into that plan.”

Barry laughed.  “Yeah.”  He went quiet a minute later.  “Thanks,” he said, and then he looked up.  “I mean it, I… it does help.  It helps to… I’m gonna tell Cait and Iris about it, just… just so people – so they know what to do.  So it doesn’t – so I don’t panic and…”  He was thinking about Oliver again, about Eddie holding him down in the car, about him and Iris not knowing what to do, about having his wrist re-broken and set.

“I know what you mean,” Len said, and it looked like he did anyway.  Barry let out a breath.  Len took one in.  “But there’s an important part in there.  Unless it’s a five, you don’t argue.  No saying you can’t do it, that you won’t.  No asking not to.  No running.  You can say you don’t want to, can say it’ll hurt, can scream or swear or whatever, but no telling yourself you’re not doing it.  It’ll work you up more, make you panic when it actually has to be done, and it’ll scare everyone around you that you’ll run – which means they’ll hold you down, which I know makes you panic more.”

Barry didn’t look up.  “I just get scared,” he mumbled, “and it just… comes out.  Just… my way of coping.  It’s easier to just… just deny it.”

“I know it is,” Len said, “but it’s not helping you in the long run.”

“Yeah,” Barry mumbled.

“So no doing it,” Len said, firmly.  “Not unless it’s a five, in which case you can talk about whether it’s necessary or not.  Otherwise, you’re assuming it’s absolutely necessary, so no trying to get out of it.  If it’s a three or a four you can have them slow down, can ask for a break, but you can’t say you’re not doing it.”

“But not if it’s a one or a two,” he mumbled.

Len’s voice softened.  “No,” he said, “if it’s a one or a two we have to put your health first.”

“I don’t like that idea,” Barry said quietly.

“I know,” Len said, “it’s only in emergencies.  Two’s we might be able to stop for a few minutes, if you need a break.”  Len thought for a minute.  “And you should do something afterwards – something fun.  Something you like.”

“We tried that,” Barry mumbled, looking at the clock, “I feel like shit afterwards and don’t want to go anywhere.”

Len frowned. “We’ll work on it.  Maybe you should just make sure one of your friends can stay with you after.”  He paused to look at Barry.  “Are you feeling better now?”

Barry looked away and hugged his arms in towards his body.  He shuddered once and then looked at the ground, moving his feet on the floor.

“Barry?”

“No.”  His voice was quiet, still looking at the floor.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I don’t know, I feel… shaky.”

Len frowned again.  “Shaky?”

Barry nodded, flushing red.  “Yeah, just… I don’t know.  Like I’m going to have another panic attack any second.  Like… on edge.  Except… less tense now and more… I don’t know I don’t feel good.”  He mumbled the last bit, like he was pushing out the words.

“You’re upset,” Len said and Barry blushed red again, embarrassed or ashamed, Len couldn’t tell.  “Why don’t you feel good?” Len pressed, “what doesn’t feel good.”

“You’re not a damn therapist,” Barry muttered, sidling away a bit.  He kept his eyes on the ground and his arms wrapped around him.

“Humor me.”  Len figured he knew already, but he wanted Barry to say it.

“I don’t know,” Barry said, “I don’t – I don’t want to talk about this.”  He was looking more agitated now, fidgeting, sending quick glances at Len.

“Too bad,” Len said, “what’s wrong.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I told you already,” Barry said, “I feel shitty, I’m all… all nervous, and…”

“And?”

“I don’t know, Len, I just don’t feel good.  I…”  He let out a frustrated noise, his brow furrowing. “I feel…”  He trailed off, and then looked genuinely confused for a moment, the frustration and embarrassment still there.

“What do you feel, Scarlet?”

Barry took in a long breath.  “I feel… not good.  Not good.  I… miserable. Sad, but… but more…helpless.  Out of control.  I can’t… I can’t do anything about it.  Like… I just want it to stop, but I can’t do anything to make it stop, and I… I’m scared.  I’m scared of getting hurt and… and of that… of the m-medical stuff… and of having more panic attacks, I… I really don’t – really don’t like the – the panic attacks.  It…”  He took in another long breath, and sneaked a glance up at Len.  “I feel really overwhelmed, and – I just want it to be quiet.  I… I just – I want –”  And suddenly Barry’s eyes were burning.

He was taking in fast breaths, but this wasn’t a panic attack.  Barry’s head felt like it was spinning, but it wasn’t fear, it was dread.  It was a deep, horrible misery that he was going to have to deal with this, that he couldn’t run from it, not this time.  He was going to get hurt again and he was going to have to get patched up and it was going to be an awful experience and he was terrified of going through it.  There was a deep, painful rock in his stomach that he couldn’t figure out and kept pushing to the back of his mind.  It was a wretched kind of misery, close to what it had felt like when his mother died – it was the same sort of sadness – the kind of sadness that had an edge so sharp it hurt, except this one was mixed with shame and fear and helplessness.  It was wrapped up in the memories he kept trying to forget and the awful ordeal that had felt like it would never end – the table and the knives and the needles and the cold hunger thirst all mixed up into one that made him feel tiny and alone.  He wanted it to stop, knew that he had to deal with it but didn’t want to, didn’t know how to.  Everything hurt and he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep and make it all go away.  _I can’t do this._   He thought it, and the words meant something entirely different than they did when Caitlin was taking the blood test.

Len watched as Barry started to cry, hiding his face and shaking.  Len moved over on the couch, putting a hand on his knee, and when he didn’t flinch he moved it to his shoulder and over his back.

“Hey,” Len said, “Scarlet, hey, it’s OK.”

But Barry shook his head. “No – no, it’s not – I – I don’t know what to do.  I don’t – I – I –”

“It’s alright,” Len said, “it’s alright, Scarlet.  You’re OK.  You’re back, you’re home.  It’s OK now.”

“No,” Barry said, “I don’t – I don’t know why I’m crying.”  He let out a pitiful sob, finally moving his hands away from his face and looking up at Len, an awful smile on his face.  “I don’t know why I’m crying, I – I don’t…”  and he trailed off.  _I don’t feel good._   he wanted to say he didn’t feel good.  Because he didn’t know how else to explain it.  He didn’t know what to call it.

“It’s OK to be upset,” Len said, looking back at him, “you had some awful terrible things done to you, Scarlet – it’s OK to be upset.”

Barry felt his throat catch and then he was bursting out. 

“It _hurts_.”

“What hurts?” Len said, frowning.

Barry let out another sob. “It – my – it feels – it feels awful.  I feel awful.  I feel so, so fucking awful and it hurts.”

Len wrapped him in a hug, and Barry felt himself falling into it, his forehead on Len’s shoulder, arms crushed up against his chest, crying, and he couldn’t stop.  He couldn’t stop the waves of hurt and he couldn’t stop the loss of control, the utter breakdown he was going through.

“Shh,” Len said, and Barry barely heard it, “Shh, it’s OK.  It’s OK to be upset.  It’s OK.  It’s OK that you feel awful, it’s – I’m sorry, Scarlet, I’m sorry it’s so bad, but it’s OK that you feel that way, it’s OK to be upset by it.”

“I don’t want to do this,” Barry said, “I don’t think I can do this.  I don’t know why it’s so bad, I don’t – I don’t know why I’m so upset, I’m out, I’m out – it’s – it’s supposed to be better now, it’s suppo- it’s not – it’s –”

“No,” Len said, “no, you’ve been repressing it Barry, it’s OK.  It’s OK to be upset now, it’s OK to still feel like shit even though you’re out, even though it’s over.”

“But I don’t want to,” Barry said, “I don’t – I thought – I didn’t want to think about it, I –”

“Do you want to talk about it now?”

And Barry was bursting.  Something was clawing away at his stomach and he just wanted it to stop, just wanted some relief, just wanted the utter desolate, desperate, alone feeling in his gut to subside, just wanted it to stop aching, stop hurting, stop feeling like he was paper thin and about to break any second.

“They broke my knee with a sledgehammer,” he burst out, and then he couldn’t stop.  “They did it over and over and over again and they kept hitting it until it was shattered.  They let it heal wrong and broke it apart again.  They did it over and over again and I knew, I –” he choked back a sob, “I knew when they were coming, I heard them and I screamed, and I – I was so, so _scared_.”  He couldn’t stop crying, clutching onto Len.  “They gagged me and I was blindfolded but I heard them, I – I heard them coming and then, and then there was the pain, and I begged – I begged them not to – I – they never stopped.

“They smashed my kneecap and broke my ankle and cut into my side with knives – cut into it so many times, so many – they poked around, they touched – they touched my organs, opened me up to see like some sort of-”  He suddenly gagged, almost vomiting, choking it back at the last second, “like some sort of science experiment, some animal.  They gave me frost bite and barely fed me and they cut my neck and I thought I – I thought I was going to die,” he choked.  “I thought I was going to die, but they didn’t – I _wanted_ to die.  _I wanted to die_.”  And he sobbed.

“They wouldn’t stop,” he kept going, crying, slower now, trying to catch his breath, “they never stopped.  I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t see.  It always hurt.  They gave me shots and it was like – like acid.  Inside me.  Burning, just – just awful.  They did a spinal tap and they touched me – they were always touching me.”  He kept crying and Len could barely get a word in anywhere, was busy trying to process it all.

“They – hands, always – just – fingers on my skin, all over – when they put needles in, when they – when they cut me – when they broke my bones.  And I cried – I cried so much and then they didn’t give me enough water – they gave me so little I couldn’t cry – it just – I couldn’t – and they – I begged them – I begged them and then they gagged me.  Everything hurt – and it was only a month, only a month, but it felt like a year.  It felt like a year, it was – I never knew how much time was passing – I was unconscious so much and I was always blindfolded, and I didn’t ever think I would get out, I just wanted them to kill me, I just wanted them to kill me already and be done with it – that they’d mess up and miscalculate and I’d be dead but I’m not and I got out but now I can’t stop and it’s still there and I thought I got out but I’m still there, I’m still there.”

“Shh, shh, Scarlet, you’re not.  You’re not, you’re right here.  Shh.”  Barry was sobbing against him and Len was taken aback, was surprised and trying to calm him down while taking in the information.  “You’re not there,” he continued, rubbing Barry’s back, holding him close now, “you’re right here with me, right here at home, in your home.  It’s OK.”

“It’s still there,” Barry said, his voice a whisper now in between almost silent sobs.  “It’s in my head and it won’t stop.  I don’t – I don’t feel any _better_ , Len.”

“I know that’s not true,” Len said, and he wanted to kiss him.  The sudden desire had him reeling, shocked, but it was there at once, the insistent urge.  Not to make out, not to even kiss him on the lips, but to kiss his forehead and his hair and his cheeks, to kiss all over his skin and erase their touch, to comfort him.  But he didn’t have time to dwell on the shocking, unnerving impulse.

“I know that’s not true,” Len said again, “you feel better than you did there.  You are out.  And I know – I know you don’t feel better the way you want to.  It takes time, Barry.  It takes time to really feel better.”

Barry was quieting down.  He was breathing slower, the sobs getting quieter.  He had exhausted himself, was emotionally spent. 

“It’s going to be OK,” Len said, and somehow the inflection was different, and Barry found himself tunneling in on that, on that one phrase.  “It’s going to be OK.”  And Len kept repeating it while holding Barry, kept repeating it over and over again until Barry stopped crying altogether.  And then he gently let go of him, leaned him down on the couch, and tucked a blanket over him.  He stayed and stroked his arm lightly, until he fell asleep.


	12. We'll Work On It

When Barry woke up Len was gone.  He checked the clock and it was past ten o’clock.  Joe was back.  He still felt a vague pang of disappointment, and a little hurt at the realization that Snart had just left.  He was halfway up the staircase before he found the note in his pocket – _Call me if you need anything – CC._ Barry rolled his eyes at the “CC” and crumpled the piece of paper, trashing it before going to bed.

He didn’t see Len for the next few days.  The tests all came back and as much as Caitlin could tell, there was nothing physically wrong with his eyes – it was just a side effect of the panic and the trauma.  He was a little pissed when she told him because that’s what he _had said_ , but no one listened to him.  It was only psychosomatic.  (Caitlin might have then gone on to tout the importance of checking anyway, but he wasn’t listening at that point.)

When Caitlin and Cisco tried to talk to him about Snart he openly ignored the questions or found some excuse to leave.  When they told Joe he had a fit.

Barry had rambled that it was just because he had been forced to let Snart take care of him while returning from getting Mardon, and that Snart felt like he still owed him because he got hurt taking him down, and Barry had gotten used to Snart and he was actually good with it and he only came because Barry misdialed him and he was in the neighborhood.

Barry didn’t mention the fact that Snart was with him for hours before and after the testing at Star labs, and he definitely didn’t mention Snart’s plan to go to a movie with him, but he did go over his one through five scale – which he told them his therapist came up with.  They were more than happy to accommodate.

Barry didn’t know what to think about the things he had blurted out to Snart – the things he couldn’t say to his faster father, his best friend, his doctors, or his therapist, but somehow could to a wanted criminal.  But maybe it was just that – Snart didn’t have the same connection to Barry – maybe that made it easier to talk to him.  Or maybe it was just because Snart seemed to always know exactly what to say, what to do, to calm him down.  Which he didn’t understand either.  Not at all.  He got why Caitlin and Cisco made him nervous – they were the ones always there when something medical had to be done.  Even Joe made a kind of sense.  He still had trouble talking to him when he spent so much of his life hiding his real feelings because he knew Joe’s thoughts on the subject, because of Henry Allen.  But he told Iris everything, and even Iris couldn’t calm him down like Len could.  Even Iris he had barely said anything about his time abducted to.

But maybe that was just the heat of the moment.  He was upset, Len was pushing him, and he was stressed from the blood test and the MRI.  He had broken down and blurted out things.  The same thing could have happened if it was Iris with him instead of Len.

Whatever it was, Len didn’t contact Barry for the next few days, even if Barry checked his phone every so often wondering if he would.  He ignored everyone’s questions about Snart, he went to work, and he tried to relax and work on staying calm.

The nightmares were starting to be a problem.  He woke up about every other night now, drenched in sweat, heaving in air and his heart racing.  Sometimes they weren’t that bad – dreams about Caitlin doing blood tests, about Iris trying to make him see a doctor.  Other times it was a flat out imitation of what he had actually been through, complete with darkness, the sound of metal, and slicing fear and pain.  Other times it was odd, foggy and sliding, with only dream-logic – Eddie and Iris turning into doctors in white lab coats, faces hidden, taking him away where he was strapped down and cut into, Oliver shooting him with arrows and then telling him to breathe while the arrows were replaced by syringes.  Sometimes the reverse flash made an appearance – Eobard Thawne – always dressed in the yellow suit though, not as Harrison Wells.  It was starting to keep him up at night, sitting in bed not wanting to face the nightmares, or unable to sleep after he’d been woken up by one.  He started getting genuinely exhausted throughout the day, circles under his eyes and falling asleep in his lab.

When Caitlin approached him while at Star Labs, and said that she’d like another blood test, he’d flat out refused.  In Barry’s defense, he was having a bad day already, had an awful nightmare the night before, and was caught off guard when Caitlin brought it up.  He had left about fifteen seconds later, running home.  Caitlin called Joe, and when Joe tried to talk to him he had walked out of the room.  He got a couple calls from Caitlin, one from Cisco, and Iris showed up later to talk to him.  He hid in his room and refused or denied anything that Joe or Iris tried to say on the topic.  He wasn’t ready for another blood test so soon.  That’s what he told himself. It wasn’t necessary.  Anything wrong with him was psychological not physical and he wouldn’t do another blood test.

Barry was at work a couple days later working on a case, processing evidence.  He had his second meeting with his therapist – Dr. Davidson.  She had suggested he come in twice a week, hinting that three might be better, and he had refused.  On top of it Iris agreed with her and was trying to get him to go more often, and it had him in a bad mood.  He didn’t want to see the shrink at all, and he was not going more than once a week.

His phone started ringing, and he picked it up to see “Cold” written on the top.  Barry frowned, hesitated, and then brought the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Thought we talked about refusing medical treatment, Scarlet.”

Barry closed his eyes and hung up.

The phone rang again.

“ _What?_ ”

“Caitlin says you need a blood test.”

“Why – she _called_ you?”

“Yes.”

“Wha-”

“So I think it’s about time you get your ass over there to have it done.”

“I – I’m – why did she call you?”

“I don’t know – ask her.  You finish work at four, right?  I’ll meet you a block north of the precinct.”

“What – no – no, Len, I’m – I’m not going.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

He heard Len click his tongue over the line.  “What did I say about saying you weren’t doing things, Scarlet?”

“This – this is different,” Barry said, “it’s a five – it’s – it’s not mandatory.”

“That’s not what Caitlin said.”

“Well – they – there’s nothing wrong with me, they’re – they’re being paranoid, over careful – I’m fine.”

“Do you even know what she’s checking for?”

“I – yes, she’s – it’s the blindness thing.”

“Mmm, try again.”

Barry blanched.  “It’s – I don’t know, it doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does, Barry.”

“I – I’m not having this conv-”

“Yes you are – would you like to know what I’m sure she was trying to tell you while you refused to listen to anything she said?”

Barry felt his face heat up and he sputtered, but didn’t say anything.

“She wants to check your clotting levels.”

“My… what?”

“Clotting.  Blood clots.  She thinks you may be more susceptible to blood clots because of how your blood clots naturally faster now.”

“But…”  Barry trailed off.  “Oh.”  He felt his stomach sinking.  Did that… did that mean he could need an operation?  If he got blood clots?  What would… his head was spinning.

“Yeah,” Len said on the other end, “so you need to get your ass to Star Labs.  I’ll pick you up at four. One block north.  Got it?”

“But, not – not today,” Barry said.

“Yes today,” Len said, “you’ve put it off long enough.”

“No,” Barry said, panicking, “no, not today, it’s too – it’s too soon, that’s too soon.”

“Not gonna help to wait, Scarlet,” Len said, his voice softening.  “You’re just gonna freak yourself out more.”

“I don’t – not straight after work,” Barry said, desperately now, “I – I’ve been so busy here, I just – I don’t – I want to go home.”

“You can.  Right after you get the blood test done.”

“Len,” Barry said, and it came out like a whine, but he couldn’t help it.  He was frustrated and upset and scared and he didn’t want to do this, and it was all sudden.

“Look, we’ll wait a little bit, OK?  We can sit and talk a little first.  We won’t go there right away.”

That calmed him down a little bit, but Barry still didn’t like the idea. “Can’t it wait?  It can wait one day.”

“No,” Len said, and his tone was final.

“What about the scale,” Barry said desperately, “it’s still – still a five.  Still – you said –”

“It’s a four,” Len said firmly, “not a five, Barry.  It’s necessary.  It’s a four.  That means we can talk about it.  We’re talking.  We can talk some more if you want.  And we’ll keep you as calm as possible.  That’s later though, when we’re there.  We can have them set up water for you.  Maybe you can drink while they do it – and we’ll section it off so you can’t see it.  You can listen to music if you want – or watch a video, or anything you want.  But you need it done, and we’re going today.”

“I think it’s a five.”

“OK, new rule – I get to decide what number it is.”

“That’s not fai-”

“And it’s a four.”

Barry scowled.  “And what if you’re not there?”

“Then Caitlin decides.”

“But I –”

“Your doctor decides.  Or whoever’s taking care of you.  And now it’s me.  It’s a four.”

“You’re not taking care of me.”

“I’m dragging your ass there so that’s counting as taking care of you.  Now stop arguing – do you want me to bring anything?”

“What, like the Cold gun?”

“Yes, Barry, you want me to bring along by sisters too – no, Barry, not like the Cold gun, like snacks, water, a portable speaker – what?”

“You have a speaker.”

“I don’t live under a rock, Barry.”

“Can’t we do this another day?”

“No. Now what do you want?  Or I’m assuming you don’t want anything and I’ll meet you at four.”

“Umm… water.  A lot – like a lot of water.  And… and a speaker for music sounds good – but Cisco probably has something there… um… I… are you sure we can’t just wait until tomorr-”

“No.”

“Len, I don’t –”

“You are.”

“You said –”

“I said I’d hang up if you say anything besides what you want.”

Barry let out a frustrated noise. “I don’t know what I want.”

“You want blankets?”

“Y-yeah.”

“A pillow?”

“Um… yeah, OK.”

“You have calming music?”

“Yeah, I can… I’ll find something.”

“You want Iris to come?”

“Um… no,” he said, wincing at the idea of Iris being there too while Len was and the insistent questions that it would cause.  She could be a lot pushier than Caitlin and Cisco.

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

“OK.  You’re gonna focus on breathing while you’re there.  Anything else you want?”

“Um… no, I don’t… I don’t think so.”

“Call me if you think of anything.  What do you want to do afterwards?”

Barry let out a groan. “I thought we established that I feel like shit afterwards and don’t like to do anything.”

“This time you will.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’ll do better this time.”

“I don’t really think so, Len.”

“Alright, I’ll bet you that you will.”

“Bet what?”

“If you feel OK, you have to go see that movie with me afterwards.  And dinner.  You’re paying.”

“Dinner and a movie?”

“Yes.”

“What if I feel like shit.”

“Then I’ll take you back to your house and you can wallow in your misery on the couch some more.”

Barry frowned at the phone.  “I don’t wallow.  I just… I don’t do well afterwards.  I feel… I feel sick.”

“Relax, Scarlet, I was kidding,” he said, but his voice went gentler.  “You can go back and take a nap.  I’ll sneak through your window if you want me to talk to you until you fall asleep.”

And Barry should not be comforted by that thought, but he was.  And he wouldn’t admit it but both of those options sounded pretty good.  A nice movie and dinner if he felt up to it, and someone to sit with him and talk to if he didn’t.  But he didn’t say that.

“OK.”

“Good.  I’ll see you at four.”

“Wait,” Barry said, and he bit his lip.  “I… it’s… it’s just a blood test?”

“Yeah, Scarlet, just a blood test.  Take five minutes.  I mean, you can take an hour if you need it – we can go as slow as you want, but the actual stuff is quick.”

“Oh… OK.”

“It’s gonna be fine, Scarlet.”

“I… I really don’t like blood tests.”

“I know, Barry.  You’ll be fine.  I’ll go with you.”

“OK.”

“You OK to go now?”

“No.”

“Do you need to talk about something?”

Barry bit his lip again.  “No,” he said softly.

“Do you think you can’t stay at work?”

“I… I can stay,” Barry said.  He had already been late and had to leave early and missed so many days.  He didn’t want to do it again.  He wasn’t really sure it would help anyway.

“OK.  Then I’ll see you at four.  You can call if anything comes up.”

“OK,” Barry said, still hesitant to end the call for some reason, the idea of it making him nervous.  “Um… thanks… Len.  Thanks.”

“No problem.  I’ll see you at four, Scarlet.”  And he hung up.

Barry hung up too, and then took in a deep breath.  He tried to block the information from his mind, and focus on his work.  It was four o’clock soon, and he was dreading leaving.  He stayed and fidgeted with some of the equipment for a while, before finally getting up the nerve to leave.  Len said they wouldn’t go straight there anyway, that they could talk first.  He focused on that while he left.

 

 

 

“I really don’t want to do this.”

It was the first thing Barry said when he saw him, and Len turned around and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I know.  It’ll be over fast.  Let’s go.”

Barry didn’t move any closer, stayed a good five feet away, looking around, looking nervous.  “You said we could talk first.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Then you’re just delaying,” Len said, “come on, let’s go.”

Barry shook his head.  “You said we wouldn’t leave right away.”  There was a growing panic in his voice and Len sighed, moving away from the bike.

“We won’t if you don’t want to,” Len said carefully, “but I think you’re just scared and trying to procrastinate.”

“I’m not,” Barry mumbled, but looked away.

Len sighed again and looked at Barry, took in his haggard expression, the faint trembling of his hands.  His eyes were lined red, dark circles under them.  He wasn’t sleeping, that much was easy to tell.  Len frowned.

“Alright, let’s go find somewhere to talk.”

Barry looked up in surprise, only to watch Len take off, and to quickly jog after him.  He followed him to a small café where Len slid into a seat.  Barry sat across from him in the booth.  There weren’t many people there at this time of day, and after a waitress came up and asked them if they wanted anything (just coffee) they were fairly alone.

“You want to tell me what’s been bothering you?” Len asked, and when he spoke it came out softly, unexpectedly so, and Barry’s head jerked up.

“I… what do you mean?”

“What’s going on?”

“I… I need the blood test.”

Len shook his head.  He just waited, looking at Barry until he finally ducked his head and stared down at the coffee in his hands.

“I’m… not doing great.  It’s fine, I just… I really… I don’t want to do this today.”

“It’s not fine,” Len said, his voice hard, and Barry flinched.

Barry didn’t say anything.  He kept staring down at his coffee.  Len sighed and decided to press farther.

“You’re obviously not sleeping.”

Barry flinched.  It was harsher this time, and Len leaned back, frowning.

“It’s stupid,” Barry said under his breath.

“Barry.”

“I… I keep having nightmares.  They just… they just keep me up, it’s not a big deal.”

“If they’re keeping you up then it is a big deal.”

Barry was silent and Len leaned forward.

“What are they about?”

Barry cringed and moved back.  “I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“OK,” Len said slowly, watching him.

“It’ll make me more nervous, just – I – I don’t want to talk about it right before.”

“OK,” Len said again, “that’s fine.  Can you tell me what’s on your mind right now, though?”

Barry shrugged.  “I just don’t want to go.  I… I’ve had to do so many lately, Len.  I just had some done, it’s just… I’m so tired of them.”

“I know, kid, you’re doing a really great job.”

“No I’m not,” Barry muttered.

“What do you mean you’re not?” Len said, frowning, “you’re doing a shit load of things that makes you terrified and uncomfortable after a very traumatic experience – you’re doing a great job.”

“It’s been almost two months,” Barry mumbled, “and I’m…”

“You’re doing better,” Len said firmly, “you’re not one hundred percent, but you’re doing a lot better already, and you’re going to keep getting better.”

“I feel like I should be over it by now.”

“Scarlet, they had you for a month,” Len said softly, “and even if it had only been a day, that would warrant months of recuperation.  It’s OK to need time.  It’s OK to need a lot of time.”

“Well it feels dumb,” Barry mumbled.

Len smirked.  “Your speed isn’t going to help you on this one.”

Barry scowled at him. “If that’s a joke, then it’s a poor excuse for one.”

“Just a statement,” Len said, but he was still grinning.  “Do you think you’re ready to go now?”

Barry shook his head and took a sip of his coffee.

“Do you want to tell me something else?  Talk about something else?”

Barry shrugged.  He was at a dilemma.  He didn’t really want to talk about it, but he definitely didn’t want to go to Star Labs, and Len was sitting waiting for an answer.

“It might make you feel better,” Len said, “to talk about it.”

“I don’t know what to talk about,” Barry mumbled, “I don’t… I just don’t want to go.  I know how it’ll feel, and that just… it just makes it worse because I know I’ll panic, and I hate – I hate being afraid all the time, it just… it seems so dumb, but I’m… I’m afraid of being afraid.”

“It’s not dumb,” Len said flatly, “it’s called agoraphobia, and it’s completely normal.  But you’re not going to panic.  It won’t be fun, but I think you can make it through without panicking.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because I’ve watched you the last time you had it done, and if you weren’t so stressed out from the MRI, I’m pretty sure you would have been fine.”

“I don’t think so,” Barry mumbled.

“Scarlet, I think it’s time we get going,” Len said.

Barry ducked and shook his head.  “I’m not ready yet.”

“Scarlet.”

“I’m not.”

“You need to take a deep breath and get up, Scarlet.”

“No,” Barry said, “not yet.”

Len sighed and settled back in against the booth seat.  Barry bit at his bottom lip.

“Can I just…”  Barry trailed off, playing with his hands, fidgeting.  “Can I… can I tell you about one… one thing they… that happened.”

Len looked up.  “Yeah,” he said, and his voice was soft, “yeah, of course.”

Barry kept fidgeting.  “It… it was right in the beginning, and I… I was really scared then.  At first… at first I was scared but it wasn’t that bad, it was just a lot of little pokes and shots and monitors and stuff, and I got used to that pretty fast.  But then they… they did something to my hand.  I think they burned it but I’m still not really sure and it just… it surprised me and it hurt _a lot_.  And after that every time they came in I got really nervous.  I was terrified they’d do something like that again, because then I knew that they would, you know.  It was just shots and stuff before then, but that was… was the first really _bad_ thing.  So I got really scared afterwards.

“It was right after that… and they came in – I heard them, I couldn’t see anything because of the blind fold, and I… I got scared.  I had a gag in my mouth.  I couldn’t scream.  I kept trying to use my speed, but nothing happened – it – I was still trying then.  It was like I wasn’t there, they didn’t say anything to me.  And then they started undoing the straps – the restraints.”

Barry looked up at Len, seeing if he was still listening.  His eyes were right on him though.  Barry looked back down, the memories making him shiver.  “I got excited at first because I thought – I thought maybe I could get out or even maybe they were letting me go, or at least off the table.  But they just turned me over, and there were so many of them that I couldn’t fight – and I was weak.  I couldn’t really fight much at all anyway.  They turned me on my stomach and then strapped me back down, and then…”

He took a deep breath.  “They did a spinal tap.  It… it hurt like hell, it was so bad.  I had to have one when I was younger – I was sixteen.  I kept getting headaches, and they wanted a sample or something.  I had been really nervous about it and Joe went with me, but they numbed it so it really wasn’t bad at all, but this… this hurt.  The… the anesthetics, they don’t work on me so… so I felt it and… it was really bad.”

“I’m sorry, Barry,” Len said, and he reached across the table to take his hand, running his thumb across his knuckles.  Barry looked down and shuddered, took in a sharp breath.

“It… it was the first time I cried,” he said, tensing up suddenly.  “There, I mean.  It was the first time I cried there.  They just – they kept poking around, and it – it hurt and I was scared.”  He sucked in a deep breath.  “And they… after they took it out, I felt there hands on me again, and I – I thought they were just going to flip me back over, but…”

He let out a small hiccup of a sob, wiping at his eyes, not really crying.  “They dislocated my shoulder.”

Len’s stomach dropped and it made him feel sick.  He squeezed Barr’s hand.  “I’m sorry, Scarlet, that’s awful.”

“It fucking hurt,” Barry mumbled, almost under his breath.  “And then they took a… the… the fluid, from the joint, and that…”  He shuddered.  “And afterwards they popped it back in, and I – I knew it was coming, but that just made it worse because I knew it would hurt bad and I couldn’t say stop or wait, and it wasn’t like with Caitlin, she always – she always tries to distract me when she has to pop things back in like that, or set bones, because I tense up so much.  Even before, I always got… I always got really nervous when I had to think about things, when I just knew they were coming.  And there was nothing to distract me, and the times I didn’t know it was coming were worse, because then afterwards I was always on edge, and it – it makes everything so much harder now because I’m terrified of you guys doing something without telling me, but if you tell me then I focus on it and work myself up and I know I’m doing it but I can’t stop.”

“We’ll work on that,” Len said, and Barry wiped at his eyes.

“They did it again later,” Barry said, “a lot later – I don’t… it was days, maybe a week or even two I don’t know – but they dislocated it again and then didn’t pop it back in – it was so painful, and it didn’t… you know, go away, I – I got really used to pain going away after a couple hours, you know, after the lightening – and this – this went on and on.  When they finally popped it back in everything had healed up wrong and they just… just tore it back.  I passed out that time.  When I woke up they were… they were doing surgery on my shoulder… it… I don’t remember a lot of that.  But… it was agonizing.”

“I’m sorry,” Len said again, because what else could he say?  He squeezed Barry’s hand and Barry trembled a little but seemed to settle down afterwards.  “Come here,” Len said, and he put down a ten on the table and then walked Barry outside where he put an arm around his shoulder.  They walked back to the bike and Len was quiet for a bit, letting Barry breathe.

But Barry seemed calmer now.  His eyes were red, but he just looked tired, not anxious.  Len frowned.

“Do you feel better now?”

Barry bit his lip and looked down.  “Yeah, I… maybe you were right… about the talking.  I… it feels good, to tell someone.  I haven’t really talked about it at all.”  He winced.

Len frowned.  “Not to Iris or Joe?”

Barry shook his head.  “I don’t like talking about it.”

“Why not?”

Barry shrugged.  “It… I don’t like thinking about it.  But I guess… I don’t know, I was already upset, so I was already thinking about it, and then I just…”  He trailed off.  “It was already in my head, and then… then it was stuck in my head and I couldn’t stop thinking about it until I said it out loud.”

“Alright,” Len said, “that makes sense.”  He moved to the bike, his back to Barry for a second, retrieving helmets (two this time) from it.  He turned back around.  “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Len said, “but if you get like that again – if you can’t stop thinking about it until you say it loud – you need to talk to Iris or Joe, or you can call me.”  He handed one helmet to Barry.  “If you really don’t think you can talk about it out loud… for any reason – then you should write it down.  Can you do that?”

Barry nodded.

“Good,” Len said.  “Now I think it’s time we get to Star Labs.”


	13. Not Quite Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin and Cisco have a surprise, Barry and Len bond, and basically everyone's very concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG this one took forever sorry - I have like three more chapters ready to go on Drowning too but couldn't post it until I put this up (sort of, there's just implications) but anyway this one has a lot of smaller scenes - little snipits. I know a lot of this has focused on Len and Barry but I wanted to include more stuff with everyone else to show how important those relationships are too - going to be trying to integrate that in more - and this fic is almost done I think... or at least, the end is in sight. Maybe a couple (probably going to turn into a few) more chapters. Anyway, here you go!

Barry fidgeted nervously when they got there, looking up at Star Labs and then eyes darting to Len.

“It’s going to be fine,” Len said, making his voice calm and steady.

Barry didn’t look like he believed him, and there was a tight frown on his face, but he followed him up the stairs.  They met a grinning Cisco in the hallway on the way to the med bay.

“We have a surprise for you,” Cisco said.

“A surprise?” Barry repeated, looking alarmed.

“A good surprise, I promise,” Cisco said, “Come on.”  He gestured, still grinning, for them to follow him and with one last hesitation Barry started walking.  He was still nervous, but he had to admit there was some curiosity in there too.

“OK, ready?” Cisco said, when they came to a door in the hallway.  There was a small handwritten sign, Caitlin’s handwriting, Barry recognized, that said “Barry’s Room.”

Barry’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “What?”

“Ta-da!” Cisco said, throwing it open.  Barry stepped forward into the doorway.

It was one of the previously used lab rooms, except after the explosion it had been left unused.  Now all of the lab equipment had been cleared out, and in front of Barry lay a very different room.

The walls were painted blue, first of all.  The smell of fresh paint still lingered.  There was a bed pushed up against one wall, a real bed, not the hospital ones, with extra blankets stacked at the foot and a bunch of pillows.  There was a couch too, and a TV in front of it, with a couple of other chairs stacked in the corner.  There was a whole wall of built in cabinets that had been previously used to store chemicals and science equipment, but was now freshly painted a dark blue with gray edging, in an attempt to make them look less clinical.  On the counter that was part of the structure was a large speaker system and a stack of books, spread out to once again make it look less clinical.  On the far side of the room was a wheeling examination table, the only thing medical looking in the room, and it was covered in a dark plastic sheet, which draped over the side all the way to the floor, making it look more like some kind of furniture item then the wheeling table that it was.  They currently had towels and blankets stacked up on top of it as well.

“Wha…” Barry trailed off, taking it in.  Len looked just as surprised as he did.

“We thought maybe a different environment would help things,” Caitlin said, gesturing to the room.

Barry walked in, silent.  Len followed him, taking in the room.

“It…” Barry said, “it does.  Thank you.  I… you guys didn’t have to do all this.”

“Pshh,” Cisco said, waving it away with his hand, “it was no problem.  A little paint, dragged in a bed, no big deal.”

“It was fun,” Caitlin said, “I hope you like blue.  It’s supposed to be the most calming color.”

“Yeah,” Barry said, looking around and seeing that almost everything in there was a shade of blue.

“Caitlin did the color scheme,” Cisco said, “I got the couch from a storage room upstairs, and the bed was at a yard sale.  The mattress is good though – expensive – I may have tapped into a Harrison Wells account for that.”  He grinned a mischievous smile, and Barry laughed.

“It’s really nice,” Barry said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.  He was smiling. 

“Glad you like it,” Cisco said.

“We thought it might be better like this,” Caitlin said, “instead of in the med bay with all… well with all the medical equipment.”  She walked over to the cabinets and opened one, revealing some different bottles inside.  “It’s still here – at least, everything I might need for something nonlife-threatening, but it’s put away this way.”

“Ooh, and I got snacks,” Cisco said, pointing to a small mini fridge that Barry hadn’t noticed at first.  “And water – a lot of water.”

“We can add anything you want,” Caitlin said.

“No, this… this is good,” Barry said.

“OK,” Cisco said, “well, in that case, why don’t you lie down?”  He patted the bed.  “Try it out.”

Barry went back to the bed and sat down before swinging his feet over.  There were enough pillows that he could lean back against the headboard comfortably.  Cisco flitted around him, and soon he had a blanket draped over his legs and another around his shoulders.  A moment later there was a water bottle in his hands.

Meanwhile Len was fiddling with the speakers and the TV.  He put on a random news station and was trying to get the speakers to work when Caitlin came over.

“Ooohh, I made you a playlist,” Caitlin said, and a minute later they had classical music pouring out of the speakers.  She went up to Barry afterwards.

“We can sit first,” she said, “if it’ll make you more comfortable, or we can just start now, before you think about it too much.”

Barry looked around, and to his surprise found that he was fairly calm.  He had lost the nervousness that had been plaguing him in the intrigue of the new room and all its elements.  But he tensed back up at the mention.

“Um,” he said, fiddling nervously, “we…”  He started to say now, but then hesitated, got nervous again.  He took a deep breath.  “Maybe… maybe a few minutes.  Not right away, but… but get it out now, just – just take it out but not – not quite yet.”

Len moved over to the other side – there was just enough space between the bed and the wall for him to drag over a folding chair and sit, out of Caitlin’s way.  He put a hand on Barry’s knee, and when Barry looked up he gave him a small smile.  He looked proud, proud of Barry for telling Caitlin to take it out, to get started, or proud of him for staying calm, he didn’t know, but it made Barry flush.

“Can you stay looking at me,” Len said, and Barry nodded.  He kept his head turned towards Len.

“I’m not going to do – no, look at Len, don’t look at me.  Yeah, there – I’m not going to do anything yet, Barry, but I’m going to just take your arm, OK?  Just hold your arm.”

Barry felt Caitlin’s fingers on him, and he shuddered once, but Len squeezed his knee and then took his hand with his free one and Caitlin’s fingers were gentle on his arm, moving up and down a few times, just drifting over his skin, before finally settling to hold just under his elbow.

“Can you take a deep breath?” Len asked, and Barry tensed.

“Wait,” he said, his face crumpling as a shot of adrenaline ran through his systems.

“Easy,” Caitlin said, “look at Len.  I’m not doing anything.”

“Nothing yet, Scarlet – I just want you to take some deep breaths.  Keep looking at me,” Len said.

Barry shuddered and nodded, taking deep even breaths until his heartrate had steadied out and his muscles relaxed.

“I want you to stay looking right at Len,” Caitlin said, her voice soft, “stay looking right at him, and I’m going to hand you the water – there – take a sip.  I’m going to take the sample now.  You’re OK – don’t tense up, it’s OK.  Take another sip.  That’s it.”

Barry started trembling, fear filling his features as he turned desperately at Len.

“Easy,” Len said, “everything’s alright.  Look at me.  Focus on me.  Take a sip of water, OK?  Plenty of water, plenty of light.  You want another blanket?”

And as Len asked the question the needle pierced his skin and Barry sucked in a breath, jumping while Caitlin gently held his arm still.  Len kept right on talking, distracting him.

“You want some more water?  Take another sip, Barry.  It’s fine.  Cisco’s going to grab you that blanket, OK?”  The way that Len didn’t miss a beat, but just kept going like it wasn’t even happening helped ground Barry, helped distract him from it, and he found himself taking another sip of water, eyes locked on Len’s, as a dizzy wave washed over him, and then it was done.

“All done,” Caitlin said, pressing a band aid to the crook of his elbow.  “You did so well, Barry, it’s all done.  That was great.  That was really, really, great.”

Barry just nodded numbly as Cisco brought another blanket over and Barry clutched at it.  Len gave the water bottle in his hands a tap and he took another sip.

“Everything alright, there, Scarlet?”

Barry trembled, and looked at his arm.  The one bandage was odd on his skin, felt odd, but not terrifying.  It looked so small after how worked up he had gotten, how stressed out he had been all day thinking about it, how much he was still reeling.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m OK,” Barry said, looking around a little dazed.

Len frowned at him.  “You wanna watch some TV?  Do you want to move to the couch or stay in bed?”

“Here,” Barry said, and his throat felt dry.  He started to shake.

“You OK there Scarlet?”

Barry looked down and shook his head wordlessly.  He held his hands out, his fingers shaking, almost vibrating.

“OK,” Len said, rubbing his knee.  “Why don’t we get you a snack?”  He gave Cisco a pointed look, and a minute later there was a calorie bar, a bag of chips, and a package of Oreos in Barry’s lap.  “Try eating something,” Len said.

Barry nodded and started nibbling on a cookie.  Len watched him with a small frown but Caitlin got the remote and sat on Barry’s other side and started flipping through channels until they settled on some documentary.  It looked boring as hell to Len but the narrator had a steady calming voice and Barry seemed interested – increasingly so as the trembling wore off and the dazed, scared look in his eyes started to fall away.  He started eating more, gradually – from nibbling to munching to eating the Oreos in one or two bites each until the package was empty.  He snacked at the chips next and Cisco brought him another bottle of water.

“Are you feeling better?” Caitlin asked after the show finished.

Barry took in a shaky breath.  “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I feel OK.”  And this time he looked it too.  His face wasn’t as pale and he wasn’t shaking.

 

 

 

 

“I think I won the bet.”

Barry looked up suddenly, turning towards Len.

“So, movie first, or are you hungry?”’

 

 

 

They saw the movie first.  But only after Barry smuggled in a bag full of snacks and then bought the largest bucket of popcorn they sold.  He got a couple weird looks.

The movie was OK.  Barry found himself getting tired though.  Not to the point of falling asleep while watching, but it was a weary kind of tired, exhausted from the day.  They sat somewhere in the middle of the theater, and Barry tried to chew quietly.  It was a bit surreal, with Captain Cold sitting next to him, digging into the popcorn every once in a while, but with all the weirdness in his life now, he found himself oddly not as bothered by it as he thought he’d be.

They left and got dinner at a casual restaurant that Barry had never been in before.  They talked about the movie, and that led to a conversation on the actor, and somehow Barry started recounting a story about how he totaled Joe’s car when he was sixteen and if it weren’t for how worried Joe had been, Barry was sure he would have killed him.

And Len told him about how the first time he drove a car he was fourteen and running from a robbery and the other guy he was with, a kid a few years older than him, shoved him in the front seat and told him to drive while he shot off wide shots from a gun.  Barry grimaced, but Len waved him away with a “he couldn’t have hit them if he wanted to anyway,” and Barry laughed.

It was nice.  It was nice having a normal conversation, or at least as normal as normal was for Barry now.  Not one about being tortured or how he was panicking or that he didn’t want to go get something done that he knew had to be done.  He found himself relaxing without meaning to, and by the time they left the restaurant, it was late and Len offered to drive him home, since he was obviously exhausted.

Barry took the ride, and Len watched him walk up to the steps.  He stopped and hesitated once, looking like he might turn back around to say something, but then continued on.

 

 

 

“Just… just back home.”

“Barry Allen, world’s worst liar.”

“Hey –”

“You mean to tell me you just left with Snart… on his motorcycle… and he took you home.  Dropped you off.  That was all.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“What?  No!  God, Cisco, I’m not – he was just helping me with the phobia stuff – it’s not – why the hell would you even ask that?”

Cisco narrowed his eyes.  “No reason.”  Oh, there was a reason.

Barry got up with a flustered huff.  “He’s just… good with the anxiety stuff.”

Cisco raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Barry said, waving his arms.  “He just is, he… I don’t know, maybe he’s dealt with it before or something,” he mumbled off.

“Hmph,” Cisco said, “if you say so.”

Cisco started to walk away, going back to a table filled with bits of metal and different tools and parts.  Barry started to think about it though, and the more he thought the more he wondered if Len _had_ dealt with something similar before.  And then, who was it?  A past girlfriend?  Lisa?  Mick?  Himself?  Was it the same thing, a problem with medical stuff, or was it just anxiety in general?  He had figured out pretty fast that Barry had been tortured that first time he had been forced to take care of his wounds – had Len been tortured?  Had someone he cared about?

“Just saying, sleeping with him – bad idea.  On many levels.  I mean, I get it man.  He’s attractive.  And the whole super villain thing – I get it – like with Lisa.  But really, the Flash cannot be sleeping with Captain Cold.  Bad idea.  Just – plain, bad idea.”

“I am not sleeping with him, Cisco,” Barry said, his face burning.

“Ahuh,” Cisco said.  “Hypothetically, though.  Protection.  You have no idea where that guy has been.”

Barry put his head in his hands.

“Who needs protection?” Caitlin said, walking in.

“No one,” Barry said just as Cisco said, “Barry.”

Caitlin gave them both a look.  “I’m not going to ask.”

“Barry’s sleeping with the enemy.”

“I’m not sleeping with anybody.  I mean, not right now.  _Unfortunatly_.  Or, it – I mean, not a big concern right now, dating, but you know I mean I’d like to but – not with Captain Cold – not – not with Leonard Snart, that’s just ridiculous and -”  Barry’s face was bright red.  He was practically stuttering.

“You’re sleeping with Leonard Snart!” Caitlin exclaimed.

“No!” Barry said, waving his arms.  He pointed frantically to Cisco.  “He said I was.  I’m not.  Not at all.  I don’t know why he said that.”

“Well, it might be because he keeps showing up and being all touchy with you,” Cisco said, waggling his fingers in a decidedly creepy manner.

“He’s just helping,” Barry said, “just – contact, it’s – it’s psychologically proven to help – and, and I’m not having sex with him, alright!”

Cisco gave Caitlin a look and she rolled her eyes.  “I think you can stop torturing him, Cisco.”

Cisco grinned, but Caitlin’s face paled suddenly and then the smile slipped off of Cisco’s face.  They both looked at Barry.

Barry was about to ask what they were looking at when it hit him.  _“I think you can stop_ torturing _him”_   Oh.  Barry stilled.

“Guys, it’s fine,” he said.  He tried to laugh.

“I – sorry,” Caitlin said, “I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t think.”

“It’s fine,” Barry said, frowning now.

“Yeah, right – sorry,” Caitlin said, seeming to get the hint and dropping the subject quickly.

It left Barry feeling uncomfortable.  He left soon after that, going home, but there was a sour taste in his mouth.  He couldn’t figure out if it was the mention of torture or if it was just the way Caitlin and Cisco had reacted that was bothering him.  He decided to just try and shake it off as he arrived home.

 

 

 

Eddie stood to the side inside the yellow caution tape, trying not to attract attention as he watched Singh pace back and forth, looking at his watch and then up again agitatedly.

Eddie felt bad for Barry.  He was in for it when he got there.

He was a half hour late now.  Which didn’t make any sense considering his speed, and not because of the chronic lateness – no, this didn’t make sense because Joe had called and spoken to Barry fifteen minutes ago.  He should have been able to speed himself there by now.

Finally, Eddie caught sight of him, walking quickly over to the crime scene.  Joe was walking towards him in a second, his stance angry, and then he paused, and his shoulders tightened in a distinctly different way.  Eddie frowned, confused, and then looked back at Barry.

  1.   Eddie felt his stomach tighten, already moving towards him as well.  There were circles under his eyes, dark, puffy circles, and Barry looked dead on his feet.  His expression was haggard and jittery.  He had on his shirt backwards, Eddie noticed absently, and only one of his shoes was tied.  He was pulling gloves on from his bag as he walked, the bag itself seeming to spit out papers, Barry crushing them down back into it as he went.



“Sorry – late, I know – bad – I’ll start right now, I’ll get right –”

“Barry,” Joe said, putting up a hand.  His expression had changed, confusion quickly morphing to concern and then worry.

“I know, I’m late, I’m really late, fastest guy alive, late, I know.  I’ll get right to it.”

“What’s wrong, son?” Joe asked.

Barry blinked.  “Nothing,” he said, “I’m just late – I – I slept in and then I – it just took me longer than I thought to get ready, and I had to get food because I didn’t eat anything last night and –”

“You didn’t eat anything last night?” Joe asked, frowning.

“No, I – I fell asleep on the computer.”

Joe kept frowning.  “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Yeah, I – why?”

“You don’t look like you did,” Eddie said, and Barry’s attention was momentarily diverted to him.

“I – I couldn’t sleep,” Barry said.

“You just said you fell asleep early and then slept in late,” Joe said.  The frown was deepening.

“Yeah, I – in between, I meant in between – I woke up and couldn’t sleep and then fell asleep really early this morning and that’s why – that’s why I’m late.” 

Joe just frowned at him.  “Lying was never a strong suit of yours, Bar.”

Barry flushed and looked away.

Joe looked over at Eddie.  “Why don’t you tell Singh to call in another CSI?”

Barry’s mouth opened.  “What – I – I can still work, Joe, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you’re fine and I’m really the tooth fairy.  Why don’t we take a walk, Barry.”

Barry looked like he was going to protest more but just then Singh walked up, a scowl on his face.  “Mr. Allen –”

Barry opened his mouth at the same time that Joe turned but it didn’t matter because Singh’s mouth closed quite abruptly.  His expression twisted and he looked at Joe.

“Barry’s sick,” Eddie said, “We need to call in another CSI.”

“No – I’m fine, I just – I’m late, I know, it’s my fault, I’ll get right to work, sorry –”

“We’re taking a walk,” Joe said firmly.

Barry opened his mouth, gaping, almost sputtering before finally turning to Singh.  “I am fine,” he said.

Singh pursed his lips.  He looked at Joe and gave him a small nod before turning to Eddie.

“Better call in O’Riley.  Tell him to get his ass down here fast.”

Now Barry really did sputter.  “I can work,” he said, turning from Joe to Singh and back, “I’m fine.”

“Let’s go,” Joe said, putting an arm around his shoulder, and pulling him away.  Barry looked like he was going to protest some more, but then his shoulders slumped and he gave in, the light draining from his face in exhaustion.  He let Joe pull him away, towards the sidewalk, and they started going down the street.

Singh let out a sigh, and Eddie looked over to see him watching the two of them as well.

“He shouldn’t be working,” Singh said.

Eddie jolted.  “He’s still the best CSI we have,” he said, “even if he’s a little scatterbrained right now.”

Singh shook his head.  “No, that’s not what I meant.  He shouldn’t have to work.  He should be resting.”

“He wants to work,” Eddie said, looking back at the retreating figures.  “It won’t do him any good to spend all day in his own head.”

“Hm,” Singh said, the only acknowledgement he got.  “How’s he been doing?”

Eddie paused.  “Better.

“Hm,” Singh said again, and then he turned back towards the crime scene.


	14. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry's nightmares get worse, and Len helps him out again.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Barry muttered.

“Barry,” Joe said.

“I don’t.”

Joe sighed.  Barry hated that sigh.  “Look, son.  You look like crap.  Totally, absolute crap.  And I meant that in the nicest way.  You’re lying to me.  We both know it.  What’s wrong?”

“I keep having nightmares,” Barry mumbled after a long silence.

“Nightmares?”

“Yeah.”

“Like when you were younger?”

“No,” Barry said, looking away.  “It’s… about the… experiments, and stuff.”

“Oh.”

Barry fidgeted with his hands.

“Did you tell your therapist?”

Barry ducked his head.  People loved to ask him that now. Like his therapist had the cure all for anything wrong with him, like just telling his therapist was a magic key to the problem.

“A little.”

“A little?”

“I said I was having nightmares.”

“And?”

“And… that’s it.”

“Did you mention it’s been keeping you up?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did she say?”

“Said I should talk about anything bothering me before bed.”

“And have you been doing that?”

Barry didn’t answer.

“So you need to do that.”

He nodded a little.

“Look, I need to get back to the crime scene, but you need to call Iris or Cisco or someone and talk to them, and then you need to take a nap.  A long nap.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Barry muttered.

“Yes you do.”

Barry scowled.  “I don’t.”

Joe gave him a look.  “You do.  You’re afraid to.  Call someone, your therapist if you need to.  We’ll talk more when I get home, and you can talk to me tonight before you got to bed, but Garrett’s already out sick today and I can’t take time off right now.”

Barry saw the guilt in Joe’s eyes, the wish that he could be there for him, the constraints of a job seeming like a poor excuse in his mind, but Barry just shook his head, feeling guilty himself.

“It’s fine – I – I’ll call Iris.”

There was relief on Joe’s face.  He put a hand on his shoulder for a moment.  “Good,” he said, “get some sleep. I know you don’t like missing work, but rest today and come back in tomorrow, alright?  You’ll be more useful doing that anyway – better one day with an alert mind then two of you falling asleep at your desk.”

Barry gave a nod, trying not to fall into the self-pitying hole that seemed to have opened up in front of him.  Joe said good bye and Barry replied with one as well, and then he took off for home.  When he got there he took out his phone, debated with just watching some TV and hoping he fell asleep, and then called Iris.  When it went to voicemail, he called Cisco instead.

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

Barry paused.  “Um… I was wondering if maybe you could come over?”

There was a pause on the other end.  “Sure, what’s going on?”

“I… um…”  Barry trailed off.  He hated talking on the phone about these things – it was easier in person.  “I’m not really sleeping…”

“Oh,” Cisco said, “need some company?”

Barry let out a breath.  “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I… I’m supposed to… to talk about things, before I go to sleep.  I’ve… I’ve been having nightmares.  I just… they’re keeping me up.”

“OK, no problem,” Cisco said, but then there was a muffled voice on the other end and a pause.  “Caitlin’s asking if you could come here instead,” Cisco said, “to the room we set up.  Something about being in that environment in non-stressful situations will make it feel safer when you do get hurt.”

“OK,” Barry said, “I’m gonna walk and get something to eat first, so I’ll be there in a little bit.”

“Alright, see you then.”

When Barry got there, he walked into an empty cortex, wandering the halls down to “his room” and finding both Cisco and Caitlin there, Caitlin reaching up to some of the cabinets, tucking things away, and Cisco sitting on the couch.

“So, what’s up?” Cisco asked, smiling.

Barry sat down on the couch stiffly, rubbing at his eyes for a moment.  God, he _was_ tired. 

“Can’t sleep,” he mumbled.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Caitlin said, running to the other side of the room.

“You can stay,” Barry said, “I don’t… I mean, I don’t care, if you’re here too, I don’t mind.”

Caitlin paused.  “Do you want me to stay?”

“Why, are you busy?  If you’re busy, it’s fine, I just didn’t want you to think you had to leave or anything.”

Caitlin gave him a smile.  “I am working on something, so I’ll leave you two.  But it’s not terribly important, so if you need something, just let me know.”  With that she gave him another smile and walked out.  Barry turned slowly back to Cisco.

“So no sleep?” Cisco prompted.

Barry sighed.  “No.”

“You said nightmares?”

“Yeah.”

“That sucks.  Do you want to talk about them?”

Barry shook his head.  He didn’t want to think about them, never mind talk about them.

“What’s bothering you then?  That’s what you’re supposed to talk about, right?  Should I have you lie down while I go sit in another chair, like a shrink?”  He gave Barry a grin and Barry felt the tension start to leak away.

“I think this is fine,” he said, “I’m just… I’m kind of… afraid of – of sleeping, because of the nightmares.”

Cisco frowned.  “OK.”

“They just… some of them get really bad.”

Cisco still frowned but nodded, his expression going more serious.  Barry looked down at his hands.

“I don’t want to sleep, because I’m afraid of having nightmares, but I’m… I’m exhausted, Cisco.  I’m so tired.  I keep almost falling asleep anyway.”

“Alright,” Cisco said, “You want to lie down?  Want to watch some TV then and take a nap?”

Barry looked conflicted and Cisco put a friendly hand on his shoulder.  “Hey, it’s fine,” he said, “you wanna keep talking instead, that’s fine.  You don’t have to yet.”

Barry frowned down at his lap.  “I… I don’t want to feel it again.”

Cisco took in a sharp breath.  “They’re just dreams, man.  You wake up and it’s gone.”

“It’s not,” Barry said, wringing his hands out now.  “I-I’ve been… I’ve gotten fla-flash backs.  When I have to do stuff.  Here.  When my vision blacks out.”

“Oh,” Cisco said, “you know it’s not real, Barry.  I know… that sucks, man, it really sucks, I’m sorry – it’s not real.  You’re safe now.”

“I know,” Barry said, twisting the bottom edge of his shirt in his hands, “but it doesn’t feel like it,” he mumbled.

Cisco frowned.  Then he stood up abruptly

“Cisco?” Barry said, looking up, alarmed.  Cisco walked to the other side of the room, and started throwing pillows out onto the floor from where they were stored in a cabinet.  Next came the blankets, until there was a heap.

“What are you doing?”

“Nest.”

Barry stared at him.  Cisco proceeded to tug the couch cushions out from behind his back (rude much) and plop them down in the corner of the room, near the bed.  He paused for a second.

“Do you get claustrophobic?”

Barry blinked.  “A little bit.”

Cisco nodded, and then started to shove the bed over a couple feet, so there was more room in the corner.  He put the couch cushions down, laid blankets over them, and then with an elaborate and precarious method of hooking one blanket to the walls (he might have hammered in a couple hooks but who needs drywall?) he had a bed of pillows and cushions down and a blanket acting like a tent above it.

Cisco put an arm out, gesturing towards it seriously.  “Nest.”

Barry got up and walked over.  He looked at Cisco.  “You want me to go in there?”

“Yes.”

“Why –”

Cisco pointed.

“Fine, nest – I’m not a bird.”  But Barry got down on his knees and crawled in.  He laid sideways, facing out, at the TV.  His head was in the corner, his feet up against the bed.  He looked up and Cisco grinned. 

“Push over.”

So Barry lay down in the blanket next and Cisco sat next to him, making himself a spot against the wall, squeezing in just past Barry’s head.  Barry leaned a pillow against Cisco’s leg and rested his head there, and Cisco put the TV on a nature documentary.

“Better?”

Barry settled down into the space, Cisco’s shifting feeling more grounding then annoying.  “Yeah.”

Cisco smiled, and Barry relaxed.  He was asleep within ten minutes.

 

 

 

Joe made him talk before he went to bed that night.  He tried to get out of it.  Joe wasn’t having it.  There was a very stressed conversation afterwards with Barry mostly mumbling and Joe asking questions like pulling teeth.  Barry didn’t want to talk about it.  He needed to talk about it.  Or at least, according to the therapist he did.  He went to bed just as stressed as he was before.  He got maybe two hours of sleep that night.

Next day he went to work, fell asleep around lunch time, and woke up breathing through his mouth, heart pounding, with the feeling of hands on his skin, fingers around his wrist and the crick creak crack of snapped fingers.  He spent the next half hour walking in circles in the lab trying to breathe deeply before he was able to actually get back to work.

He wouldn’t talk to Joe, wouldn’t really talk to anyone.  He didn’t want to talk about it, just wanted to get better.  Just wanted to push it all behind him already and forget about it.  But after three days of no improvement except the progression of Barry’s state into a jittery, sleep-deprived zombie, everyone was getting worried.

Joe had had enough.  He cornered Barry at home, up in his room while he was eating a bowl of cereal (at nine at night) and clicking at his laptop.

“Barry,” Joe said.

Barry looked up, startled, and then settled back down.  “Hey.”

“I think you should think about shutting that down and getting yourself some sleep.”

Barry didn’t move.  “It’s only nine.”

“And you’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine.”

“Barry.”

“I don’t want to talk, OK, I don’t.”  He paused at that, his fingers stilling, face contracting, looking back up at Joe with an earnest expression on his face.  He didn’t want a fight right now.

Joe sighed, deflating a little bit.  He sat down on the bed next to Barry.

“What’s wrong, Barry?”

“I keep getting nightmares,” he muttered, irritated.  There was a silent _I already told you that_ , in there.

“What’s wrong right now?”

“I don’t want to have nightmares.”

“Barry,” Joe sighed again, “please, Barry, let me help.  What’s bothering you?  What’s wrong right now?”

Barry didn’t say anything for a bit.  “Nothing.”

“Barry,” Joe said, almost a groan.

“I’m just – I’m just not feeling great right now.”

“If you get some sleep,” Joe said, “I’m sure you’d feel better.”

“But I can’t sleep.”

“You have to try, Barry.  You’re not going to just live the rest of your life as an insomniac.  You will get through this, but you have to let us help you.”

Barry stilled.  He slowly closed the computer and set it aside.  When he looked up, his eyes were wide and sad.  “I don’t know what to do,” he said, a whisper.

“Well start,” Joe said, equally quiet, “with telling me what’s on your mind right now.”

Barry was quiet.  “I’m afraid of having nightmares but I’m so tired I feel like I’m going to drop dead,” he said flatly after a moment.

Joe nodded, smiling a little.  “You look like it too.”

Barry took in a deep breath.  “I’m afraid I’ll get hurt again or Caitlin will find something wrong and I’ll have to go back.”

“We’ll deal with that if and when it comes up,” Joe said, putting a hand on his shoulder, over his back.  “You are perfectly healthy right now.”

“I really want some water.”

Joe got up, went to the mini fridge he had bought after Barry’s affinity for water became apparent, and took out a bottle.  It helped him to have the bottles right in his room, where he could look to if he got overwhelmed, or needed something grounding when he woke up from a nightmare.  They were like a security blanket to him.

Barry took the cap off but only took a sip, just holding it in his hands.  He was staring at the sheets, eyes lost, when his face constricted.  He looked back up and his eyes were glassy with water.

“I’m r-really scared.”

Joe felt his stomach twist.  “Oh, Barry,” and he was reaching forward hugging him, and Barry had his chin on his shoulder, muffled, silent sobs going through him.  “I’m sorry, kid, I’m so sorry.  It’s going to be OK.  You’re just fine, Barry.  You’re safe.”

“I can’t – I can’t get rid of the feeling,” Barry said, “I can’t shake it Joe, it’s – it’s everywhere.”

“It’s OK, son.  Give it time.  It’ll get better.  You’ll get through this.  You’re safe.  You’re safe, Barry, you’re perfectly safe.  I’m right here.”

“Want more water,” Barry mumbled, “I – I want – want the cups.”

“Why don’t you focus on breathing, instead,” Joe said, rubbing smooth circles on his back.  “Focus on breathing and sip your water.”

Barry did, following Joe’s directions.  He wasn’t panicking – he was just upset, and it was making him feel unbalanced – precarious.  He wanted the comfort that filling up cups and bowls and pitchers of water gave him, the sense of safety that it was all there, all there just in case.  But Joe was right, and his therapist had already told him to stop doing that if he could, that if he could stop himself he should because it threatened to form into a case of OCD and could easily become debilitating if it wasn’t already.  Barry still kind of wanted to, but he’d settle for Joe’s hand on his back and his comforting smile and the water bottle in his hands.

“Why don’t you lie down,” Joe said, carefully shifting so that Barry could, “and I’ll stay with you, and help you breathe until you fall asleep.”

“OK,” Barry said, because giving in at that point was easy.  He was exhausted, wanted sleep so much, but was terrified of it.  He let himself be shifted down, so he was lying on his back, Joe putting a hand on is knee.

“Alright, slow breaths,” Joe said, his tone quiet and smooth.  He left the light on, and Barry closed his eyes, while Joe repeated “in” and “out” a few dozen times, until his body gave in, and he fell asleep.

 

 

 

Joe sat with him most nights until he fell asleep.  It made Barry feel like he was eleven again, the lights all turned on, Joe sitting at the edge of the bed, but most of the time he couldn’t summon the energy to care.  When Joe wasn’t home, couldn’t be home, sometimes he just stayed up.  Other times he watched TV and hoped he’d fall asleep.  On the really bad nights he called Cisco and they’d make a sleep over holed up in Barry’s room at Star labs, usually with Barry on the bed and Cisco passed out on the couch or on the floor, occasionally in a chair.

Barry kept having nightmares.  If anything, they were getting worse.  He was able to sleep more now, because someone sitting with him gave him enough security to fall asleep, but he still woke up with nightmares about every other night.  It was putting a strain on him.  It was also frustrating him.

He thought he was doing better.  He was starting to be able to handle some of the more mild medical stuff.  He could handle being around it now, anyway – when Caitlin walked around the labs.  He didn’t stare or shy away anymore.  As long as they weren’t doing anything to him then he was usually fine, which was an improvement.

But he didn’t feel better.  He was still jittery and nervous almost constantly, the stress of the nightmares leaking into the daytime.  He couldn’t shake the feeling once he woke up.  Even as he seemed to be progressing in an outward fashion, he felt like he was sinking into the ground, like he was trapped and stuck in this constant state of anxiety.  It was starting to affect his lifestyle, in the way that he did things, and people were starting to notice.  He didn’t talk as much, stayed in at his house most of the time, and Flash stuff was kept at a minimum. It was a drastic change to when he had thrown himself into work, a whole 180.  He was lethargic, and no one could tell if it was from the lack of sleep, or just his mood.  When he wasn’t tired and silent he was bouncing off the walls, shaking with panic.

It was frustrating, it was exhausting, and Barry felt like everything was shattering to pieces. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can give him?”

Caitlin shook her head.

Joe sighed.  He stood across from Caitlin and Cisco.  “Not anything to help him sleep?  What about natural remedies?  Or chloroform?  Something to just make him pass out at least?”

“Doesn’t work on him,” Caitlin said, “he burns through everything too fast.”

Joe let out another frustrated sigh.  “There has to be something?  All this equipment and there’s not something?”

“Short of hitting him over the head, no,” Caitlin said.

“And I wouldn’t really recommend that,” Cisco put in.

Joe put a hand over his face.  No shit.

“What about the room?” he asked, “does he sleep better in there?  Would it be better for him to stay here at night?”

Cisco frowned.  “No one’s here at night,” he said, “so no.”

“Is there something in there that you think we could copy in his room at home?  Something to make it easier for him?”

“I don’t think he really sleeps any better in there,” Cisco said, “maybe a little better if I sit with him.”

“He likes someone to talk to him,” Caitlin put in.

“I’ve tried that,” Joe said, “but I work late shifts a lot – he’s asleep before I get home a lot of the time.”

“We could rotate going over there,” Cisco said.

“He’d never let us,” Joe said.

“Hm.”

“Look,” Joe said, “I have to take a trip to Starling next week for work.  I tried to get out of it, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.  Could you two just check in with him while I’m gone?”

“Of course,” Caitlin said.

“Thanks,” Joe said, “Like, really check in with him.  Annoyingly, multiple times a day – I’m getting worried.”

“We’ll make sure he’s OK,” Cisco said.

“Thanks,” Joe said again, looking weary.  “I’m gonna head out then.  I’ll see you guys in a week.”

Cisco and Caitlin said goodbye as he walked out of the room.  Then Cisco turned to Caitlin.

“Does he know about Snart?”

Caitlin pursed her lips.  “I don’t think so.  Not past the trip to Vermont to get Mardon anyway.”

Cisco sucked in a breath.  “That’s not going to go over well.”

Caitlin looked back at the door.  "No it is not."

 

 

 

“I’ve got two cases of water bottles in the garage,” Joe said, “and enough frozen dinners to last even for you.  Call Iris or Caitlin or Cisco if you need anything.  Anything.  Make sure you go to bed at a decent time, too, even if you’re scared or think you can’t sleep.  Call someone if you’re having a hard time with it.  And no parties.”

“I’m not sixteen,” Barry said, scowling, “and I can take care of myself, Joe, I know how to go to a grocery store.”

Joe narrowed his eyes.  “If you bring someone home, you stay off my couch.  I do not want to find any evidence.  Your room.  Only.”

Barry made a horrified expression.  “J- that – gross.  I – I’m not having that conversation with you.”

“As long as we’re understood,” Joe said.

“I very much understand,” Barry said, scrunching his nose.

“Good,” Joe said, “other than that, please at least _try_ to be on time to work.”

“I always _try_ ,” Barry mumbled.

“Try harder,” Joe said, “I won’t be there to cover for you.”

Barry mumbled something about not needing anyone to cover for him.

“I’ll call you tonight,” Joe said, “you can talk to me before you go to sleep if you need to.  If it’s a problem sleeping in the house alone then I already talked to Cisco and he said you can sleep at his apartment for the week if you want.”

“I’ll be fine,” Barry said, “go.  Or you’re going to be the one who’s late.”

“I’ll call tonight,” Joe said, giving one last goodbye before going out the door.  Barry rolled his eyes.

 

 

 

 

In his defense, he’d thought it be fine.  He really did.

It hadn’t bothered him all day.  He had gone around, watched TV, read a book, went on the computer.  He even went out and met Iris for lunch.  He was fine.  He was fine when the sun went down and he cooked up three different frozen dinners and he was fine when he went up to his room with the lights all turned on and started to read to try and relax before bed.  He had lived alone before.  It wasn’t a problem living alone now.

Except for when he tried to go to sleep.

And then it was like a switch.  As soon as he closed his eyes the fear was back and it was dark and he was alone.  He laid in bed for an hour before giving up.  He knew he should call Cisco or Iris, but now it was twelve at night and he didn’t want to bother them and wake them up.

 _I’ll get a glass of water_ , he thought.  _I’ll take a little walk and get a glass of water._   He went downstairs and after filling up a glass walked outside onto the back porch.  The air was cool and crisp and he breathed in deeply, feeling himself relax.  It was quiet outside, the streetlamps just enough light that it didn’t feel threatening, and the open space made him feel less trapped.  When he finished the glass of water he turned to go back inside, feeling more relaxed, and a little proud of himself too for getting through it on his own.  He took two steps when a sharp pain erupted in his foot.

“Fuck!” he yelled, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth at the loudness, looking to see if any neighbors were looking.  None were and he hobbled over to the door, going back inside and grabbing at his foot, which was stinging in pain.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, and then felt his breathing speed up, his head get dizzy.  He stumbled into a chair in the kitchen, folding his leg in front of him, holding his ankle.

There was a giant splinter in his foot.  Giant.  Blood was coming out around it, just a faint red outline, and Barry could see the wood under his skin, could see it protruding out and suddenly he was gagging, going to throw up.

It took him a moment for him to regain control, and then the fear set in.  He’d have to pull it out.  He tried to breathe.  It wouldn’t be so bad.  It was just a splinter.  He could just pull it out and let it heal – it be healed in an hour. It was fine.  He went to touch it, hesitantly, and hissed with the sharp sting when he even nudged it.  The wooden porch was old and he should have been more careful, should have slipped something on his feet before he went out there, but now it was too late.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swore, hobbling to go get a pair of tweezers.  He almost thought pliers would be better for this splinter, how large it was.

When he got the tweezers, he sat down on the edge of the bathtub and tried again to pull it out.  It tugged on the skin around it in a painful way, and the splinter was broken off very close to his skin, almost slipping inside it completely, and in order to get a grip he kept having to dig into his foot.  It hurt, and he couldn’t keep his hands still, was starting to get more and more scared the longer it took him.  He couldn’t get the damn thing out.  He bit his lip.  He was scared of leaving a piece inside him, scared the splinter would break apart and then he’d have to dig in to get it, or worse, go to Caitlin and have her make an incision to get it out.  After twenty minutes of struggling he was close to tears, sweating and hands trembling, frustrated and panicked.

He limped back to his room and sat on the bed.  Maybe it would come out by itself.  Some splinters were like that – worked themselves out.  Not this one, though.  Not with his speed healing.

Barry grabbed for his phone.  He’d call someone.  He had to call someone.  He’d call Iris.  Iris would come over and be gentle and help him get it out.  He didn’t want to call Caitlin, he was too afraid it would somehow turn into a very medical procedure when it was just a little splinter, and he knew that he was overreacting but he still didn’t want to call Caitlin.  So he called Iris, but after calling twice, it went to voicemail both times.

He considered calling Eddie.  Figured he’d wake up and then wake Iris up for him, but didn’t want to bother them both like that.  He could call Cisco, but he was afraid Cisco would insist on calling Caitlin because Cisco really didn’t like doing the medical stuff himself.  And that left him frustrated, alone, and one notch away from crying.  He was about to close his phone and try again, when he saw the contact for “Cold”.  What the hell.  He really didn’t have anything to lose.

It rang three times and then, “Barry?”

“I – I didn’t wake you, did I?”

There was a pause.  “No, kid, I’m at a club, what’s up?”

“Oh, um…” Barry trailed off.  This was a bad idea.

“What’s wrong, Scarlet?”

“I – I hurt myself,” he said.

“OK, what’s wrong?”  Barry could hear the background noise fading, getting shut out.

“I – it’s silly – it’s really stupid, I – I got a splinter.”  He let out a quick, anxious laugh.

“OK,” Snart said, “did you get it out?”

“No, I – I can’t,” Barry said.

“Did you try?”

“Yes.”

“Tweezers?”

“Yeah, it – it’s really big and it’s kind of stuck, and I – I can’t get it out.”

“OK I’m on my way over.  I’m only like ten minutes away I’ll be there real soon.”

“OK.”

And then he was gone.  Barry waited on his bed, and ten minutes later he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

“You left the front door unlocked,” Len said, looking unimpressed.

“Shit.”

Len sighed.  “Alright, let me see it.”

Barry moved his foot over, letting Len get a better look at it.  He took his foot in his hands, pulling him a little closer, angling it for the light.

“Damn, Scarlet,” Len said, “You said you got a splinter, not that you got impaled.”

Barry tensed up.  “But – you can get it out?”

“Yeah, I can get it out,” Len said, grabbing the tweezers from where they lay next to him.  “Give me a minute.”  He left the room and when he came back he was holding a bowl with water in it and a small towel.  “Put your foot in that,” he said, placing it on the ground to the side of his bed.  Barry shifted so that he was sitting on the edge, and placed the foot with the splinter in it into the bowl.

“It’ll make it easier to get out,” Len said.  “How’d you manage to do that?”

“The porch,” Barry said miserably.

“What are you even doing awake, it’s almost one in the morning?”

Barry stared at him wide eyed.  “What are you doing up.”

Len huffed.  “I was at a bar – but I don’t have a day job to go to in the morning.”

Barry looked down slowly, fiddling with his hands.  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, “I got up to get some water.  I was doing good…”

Len frowned.  “You’re still not sleeping, are you?

“No,” Barry said, looking down.  “Nightmares.”

He expected a laugh, but Len just nodded at him.  “I’m going to get some bandages and antiseptic,” he said, getting up.  Barry made a face and Len sighed.  “Everything has to be disinfected, Barry.  Thought you would have learned after your leg that infection is not a fun thing.”

Barry scowled at him and Len returned a minute later after rummaging around the West’s bathroom until he found a first aid kit.  Barry eyed it angrily.

“It’s just a splinter,” Len said, “put your foot back up.”

Barry carefully brought his foot out of the water and placed it on the towel Snart had laid out.  He watched nervously as Len gripped his ankle again, angling his foot a little bit.

“Alright, I’m going to pull it out,” Len said.

Barry watched, biting his lip.  A little noise of pain came up his throat when Len tugged, using the tweezers.  His hands curled to fists in the sheets.

“Be over in a minute,” Len said, giving little tugs on the wood piece with the tweezers.  It was in deep, and it was stuck where a part of the splinter was fragmented a little, split down the center, a piece having curved off.  “Look away for a second,” Len said.

“What are you going to do?” Barry asked.

“I’m going to give it a good pull – it’ll hurt for a second, OK?  Just a second.  Take a deep breath, and don’t watch.”

Barry bit his lip again and nodded, tensing up and looking away.

“Deep breath,” Len said.

Barry breathed in deeply and Len, holding his ankle down to keep him still, gave it a yank.  Barry jolted and yelped and the tweezers slid off the end of the splinter with the force of it.

“Got it,” Len said.  The splinter was out by a good half an inch now, and Len put the tweezers down and then gripped it with his forefinger and his thumb.

“Ow,” Barry said, wincing as Len teased it out.  He moved it from side to side gently, going slowly and Barry gritted his teeth.

“Almost done,” Len said.  He kept going for another minute, and then the last of the splinter slid out.  “Done.”

Barry let out a relieved sigh, and then looked at his foot, blood welling up where the splinter was.  Len started getting the hydrogen peroxide and Barry winced.

“Can’t we just use Neosporin?  It’s a splinter.  Isn’t Neosporin good?”

Len paused for a second. “Yeah, that works.”  He opened the first aid kit instead, found a large band aid and Neosporin and handed it to Barry.  He put it on gingerly, pressing against the sticky sides to get it to stay.

“Thank you,” Barry said afterwards, looking down at his foot.

Len let out a soft laugh.  “No problem, Scarlet.”

“I… why do you help me?” Barry said softly.  He looked up slowly, his face honestly confused, and a little scared, nervous of the answer.

Len sighed.  That was a good question.  “Because you need help.”

Barry frowned at him.

Len tried again.  “Because somehow you dragged me into it.”  He got another frown.  Len sighed.  “Alright, because Lisa used to be afraid of dentists, and it reminds me of that, and because it was my fault you were hurt that first time with Mardon and I wasn’t going to leave you there, and after hearing you yelling and screaming and panicking I couldn’t just stop, OK?  Because contrary to popular belief I do have some sense of empathy and screams begging for you to stop tend to make a pretty lasting impression.”

Barry’s face went a little red, and he looked down.  “Sorry,” he said.

“Fuck, Scarlet,” Len said, wiping a hand down his face.  “It’s not your fault.  It’s just that… it’s a pretty horrifying scene, Barry.  When you were bleeding all over the bed and crying and begging me to stop.  It’s just not something you forget.  And I can’t… I don’t want you – don’t want anyone – alright, maybe a few – to go through that.”

Barry nodded slowly.  He brought his knees in towards his chest, curling up a bit, but he didn’t look upset, just thoughtful.

“How about you?” Len said.  “You called me.”

“You help,” Barry said.  He shivered.  “No one else… you’re good with it.”

“Hm,” Len said, “well, glad I can help.”

“Could you um…” Barry trailed off.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, are you, busy – right now – do you have to go?”

“It’s one in the morning, Scarlet, where am I supposed to be?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s just – um, could you stay?”

Len’s eyebrows went up.  “Stay?”

Barry nodded, looking down. “I… Remember I – I said I wasn’t really sleeping?”

“Oh,” Len said, and he got up, starting to clear away the medical supplies, getting it off the bed.  “You want me to talk to you?”

“Yeah,” Barry said, looking relieved.

“Alright, lie down,” Len said.  He dragged over a chair, and Barry, feeling very much like a little kid and blushing red, got under the blankets and put his head down on the pillow.

“Sorry,” Barry said, felt a compulsory need to apologize.

“Don’t apologize,” Len said, “nothing’s your fault.  Close your eyes.”

Barry closed his eyes, and Len started on the ramble that seemed almost to come second nature now, about how Barry was OK and he was doing find and he did so well with the splinter and everything was alright and he was right there, and he could relax, let the tension out of him, take deep, calming breaths.  Barry was out in the next ten minutes, and Len left him like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I was on vacation and forgot to transfer my files so I couldn't work on this at all. More soon though!


	15. Because I'm a Fucking Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry has a panic attack. He calls Len.

“Hello?”

“Um… hi.  It’s me.  I mean, it’s Barry.  This… could um… are you busy?  It’s – shit, it’s late, um, do you… could you maybe… just um –”

“Scarlet, spit it out.”

“Couldyoumaybecomeoveruntilifallasleep.”

“English?”

“Could you… come over… until I fall asleep?  Like last time?  I’m sorry… I – I can’t sleep, I –”

“Barry, relax.  I can come over.  Just give me like… half an hour?  I can be there in like half an hour.”

“Thank you, fuck, thanks, I… Cisco tried to help, but… I really tried, on my own, I got – shit, I got this guided imagery thing even but it’s just… I don’t know, nothing’s working.”

“Alright, well, I’m on my way.  Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Not really.”

“Any at all?”

“A couple hours… it’s… it’s gotten worse.”  Barry’s voice was tight over the line and Len shifted the phone against his ear.

“The nightmares?”

“No… yes, I don’t know.  The sleeping… I just – I can’t.  I can’t sleep at all.  I don’t want to, but I’m exhausted and it’s – that just makes it _worse_.”

Barry sounded wrecked, sounded like he had been crying.  “What do you mean, Scarlet?”

“It – the – I’m tired, so I get – I’m upset, I’m – fuck, I _hate_ this.”

“Alright, just relax.  Take some deep breaths, Scarlet.”

Len could hear his stuttering breath over the line, his voice close to cracking out of frustration and misery, like he was just at the end of his rope.

“I just wanna sleep, I can’t – fuck, I can’t do this, it’s – this is awful, I feel awful, I can’t sleep, I just – I’m so tired and I can’t think – I can’t – I hate this, it – it feels like – feels like I can’t – I can’t b-breathe.”

“Easy,” Len said, growing more and more concerned, frowning now, “easy, Scarlet.”  He made his voice steady and calm.  “Take some deep breaths.  You’re working yourself up.  Just relax.  I’ll be there soon.  We’ll figure something out.”

“I keep – every time, a-a – a p-panic attack – every – e-every g-god-d-damn t-time.” 

“Scarlet,” Len said, his tone very calm and very serious, “you need to take in some deep breaths.  I know you’re upset.  I’m on my way.  Is there anyone at home with you right now?”

“I – no – no, Joe’s – he’s – he’s in S-starling – I – I can’t do this – it – every t-time – every time I w-wake – wake u-up, an-and it – I – I can’t, I don’t – this – Len, I – gh, I – br-reathe –”

“Barry, Scarlet, you need to relax.  You need to breathe.  You can, you can breathe, but you need to focus.  Slow breaths.  Is there anyone who’s closer to you?  Who can get there quicker than I can?  Iris, Cisco, Caitlin?”

“N- I – I don’t – I don’t kn-now.  I – I – Len – i-it, f-fuck.  I – I c-can’t feel m-my f-fingers – I – I can’t – gah, can’t – c-can’t s-stop shak-ing – I – L-len?  L-len, I – I don’t – please, I c-can’t – I – c-can’t, ah, br-breathe – it – p-please, h-h - help, I – I –”

“Barry, I need you to listen to me,” Len said, “I need you to listen and follow my directions. You’re going to take in a nice, long, deep breath.  From your diaphragm.  You’re going to do it now.  Ready?  One, two, three – breathe in.  Keep breathing in…. OK, hold it… hold… now let it – slowly – let it out slooowly.  There, again, breathe in, ready, I’m going to count to eight – breathe in with my count.”  He kept going, counting out the breaths, coaching Barry through it as he inhaled and exhaled over and over again, going slower and slower until he was breathing nice, long, deep breaths.

When Barry was breathing evenly, if still a little shaky, he said quickly, “Len, how – how far away are you?”

“I’m a half hour, Scarlet, I said that.”

“You – I – I need to stay on the phone.”

“I’ve got the bike,” Len said, looking at the motorcycle waiting for him.  “I can’t talk to you while driving.”

Len heard Barry’s breath start to stutter again, start to pick up.

“Hey, easy, easy.  Is there someone else you can call?  I know there’s got to be someone, Barry.  Just someone to stay on the phone with you until I get there?”

“I – I don’t know.”

“Come on, Scarlet, I know there’s got to be someone.”

“I – I can try.”

“OK, see?  Good – good, OK?  I’m gonna hang up in a minute, and I want you to call one of your friends.  You’re going to tell them that you’re panicking, and someone’s on their way to your house, but you need someone to talk to and to help you breathe.  Tell them to count breaths for you.  And if the person you call doesn’t pick up, call another.  Keep going until someone picks up and can talk to you, OK?  Do not stop calling.  You keep going.  Even if you’re nervous about calling that person or don’t want to.  You do anyway.  You tell them you’re panicking, and to help you count breaths.  Got it?”

“Y-yeah.”

“OK.  I’m gonna hang up, Scarlet.  I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“O-OK.”

Len hung up, and started the bike.  He drove.

 

 

He got there and the place was a mess.

Barry was sitting on the couch, back straight, stuttering into the phone.  He was wearing pajamas – plaid pants and an old T-shirt, and his hair looked like he’d just walked through a wind tunnel.  It wasn’t that the place really looked like a pig sty or anything, it was just… off.  Everything seemed out of place, rushed and strewn about, and as Len let himself in (they should really invest in some higher quality locks) Barry’s eyes jerked up, and they were blown wide, panic-stricken.

“I – h-he’s here, I’m – I’m gonna ha-hang up – no, I – I’ll be… OK.  OK, I will.  I – th-thanks.  Yeah.  I – I promise.  Kay.  Bye.”  He hung up the phone and looked desperately at Len.

“Alright,” Len said, moving over quickly, “just breathe.  It’s OK.”

“I – I can’t,” Barry said, frantically, “something’s w- something’s wrong, this – I – I’ve never – I can’t –”

“Shh,” Len said, taking his wrists gently, “it’s just a panic attack.  It’s already been going on for over a half hour, so it’ll go away soon.  They don’t usually last too much longer than that.  OK?  It’s just a panic attack, you’re OK.”

But Barry shook his head.  “No, I – I don’t know w-why this is h-happening.”

“You’re panicking,” Len said, “it’s OK.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head some more, “n-nothing _h-happened_ , I j-just – I don’t _know_ , it – it just s-started _h-happening_.”

“I know,” Len said, “it’s OK.  You’re not getting enough sleep, that was probably it.  You got upset, and you haven’t been getting enough sleep, so it triggered one.  It’s OK.  It will still go away.”

“I can’t do this,” Barry said, hiding his face, letting tears drip down his cheeks.  “ _I c-can’t do th-this_.”

“Yes you can, Scarlet,” Len said, his tone matter-of-fact.  Hard, but not cold.  “I know it’s hard, and it’s unpleasant, but you can, and you are.  You’re going to get through this.”

“F-feels like – like I can’t breathe,” Barry said, letting out a sob, “m-my v-vision.”

“Is it fading?” Len asked, making his tone calm.

Barry started to nod, letting out another sob, this one quickly followed by more.  “I c-can’t, I c-can’t, please, I n-need – I –”  He gasped, struggling to breathe.  “I n-need t-to be ab-le t-to _se-ee_.”

“Shh, Scarlet, it’ll come back.  Hey, listen to me, Barry.  It will come back.  You have to be patient.  I know that’s not something you want right now, but you have to.  It’s going to come back, good as new, and you will be fine.  Just like all the other times you had a panic attack and couldn’t see.  It came back then, it’ll come back now.  This will end.”

“I c-can’t f-feel my f-fingers,” he said, quieter this time, face screwed up with the crying.

Len took his hands gently and started rubbing them, trying to get the blood moving.  They were ice cold.  The kid’s blood pressure must have dropped.  Great.

“It’s OK,” he said, “that’s normal.  That can happen sometimes.  Let me help.”  He kept rubbing them.  “Try to take deep breaths,” he said again, “you’ll be fine.  This is all just temporary.”

Barry nodded and hiccupped, trying to stop the crying as he took in deep breaths.  He struggled with it, the breaths gasping and shaky.  Len kept rubbing his hands.  They didn’t get any warmer.

“I still c-can’t see,” he said, looking on the verge of tears again after a while of breathing deeply.

“Just relax,” Len said, “it’ll come back.  I’m right here, Scarlet, nothing’s going to happen to you between now and when it comes back.  Be patient.  Breathe through it.”

Barry tried.  It took him a long time to calm down.  He broke down a couple more times, crying and begging Len to make his vision come back, like he had some control over it.  Len reminded him that it was just him, Leonard Snart, that he was at home, on his couch.  He wasn’t sure if Barry was pleading with him because he was stuck in a flash back or if it was just ugly desperation, but he figured the words would be grounding anyway.  It was a half hour after Len arrived that Barry’s vision came back, spotty at first and then strengthening, and it was another twenty minutes after that before he had finally, finally calmed down.

“Easy,” Len said, sitting down carefully next to Barry, “here, drink some of this.”  He handed Barry a glass of orange juice, and set a plate of some assorted foods he had dug out of the West’s kitchen.  Barry was wrapped in a blanket, sniffing, looking absolutely worn out and exhausted.

“Eat something,” Len said, lifting the plate, waiting until Barry picked up a cracker and started nibbling at it.  He sighed and let it go for now.

Barry sat wrapped in the blanket, eyes blank and staring forward.  Len sat down gingerly, placing a hand slowly on Barry’s back.

“How you doin Scarlet?” he asked softly, carefully shifting his hand on Barry’s back to rub at it.

Barry didn’t say anything, didn’t even move.

Len sighed.  “Alright, Scarlet, we’ll just sit for a bit.”  Len left him alone for a few minutes, just sitting.  After a bit he picked up another cracker and pressed it into Barry’s hand.  He lifted it up and brought it to his mouth, only to nibble on the edge of it.  Len let him have that, waited until he had bit off the very end and finished the cracker, and then picked up another and placed it in his hand.  They sat there for a good forty five minutes until Barry had finished all the crackers.

“How are you feeling?” Len tried again.  Barry didn’t say anything for a while.

“I feel like shit,” he said.  Len looked over sharply, but Barry was still staring straight ahead.  His bottom lip started to tremble.  “I feel awful.”  His voice cracked.

“Alright, how about we try to get you some sleep, huh?  I think it be a good idea.  You have work in the morning?”

Barry nodded slowly. 

“I’ll call you in sick,” Len said. 

Barry shook his head.  “I have to go,” he said.

“Scarlet,” Len said gently, “it’s past two in the morning and you look like you need about sixteen hours of sleep.  One thing at a time here.  You can go back to work later.”

“I wanna go,” he said, sniffed.

“We’ll see in the morning,” Len said.  “We’re gonna lie down now.” 

Len moved over.  By “we” he meant Barry, but he found Barry responded better when it wasn’t all about him.  Like if the person talking to him was going to do it too then it couldn’t be that bad.

“I don’t want to,” he said.

“You did when you called me,” Len said, hefting Barry’s legs onto the couch, pushing him sideways.

“I don’t now.”

“Too bad, Scarlet.  You need sleep.”

“I can’t have another nightmare, Len,” he said softly, and Len looked up to find Barry’s eyes swimming, trained right on him.

“You won’t,” Len said, fitting another pillow under him, nudging him to lie down.  “You won’t, Scarlet.  You’re way too tired anyway to dream at all, and you just had one hell of a panic attack.  You’re all panicked out.  Just relax.”

Barry started to calm a little bit again.  He settled in against the blankets.  “Do you mean that?” he asked.

“Mean what?”

“The panic thing.  Will it really not happen because I just had a panic attack?”

Len paused.  He had no idea.  “Yeah,” he said, “you’re exhausted.  No room left for panicking.  Close your eyes.”

Barry didn’t, but he didn’t protest when Len dimmed the lights (making sure some were still left on) and draped another blanket over Barry (they were strewn all over the house now, always in easy reach in case Barry had an episode).

“I’m sorry,” Barry said.

Len paused.  “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I’m a fucking mess.”

Len laughed, and the sound surprised Barry, and it surprised him more when it melted some of the tension still strung through him.

“You’re talking to the walking psych case, Scarlet.  You don’t need to apologize to me.  None of this is your fault.  Just relax.  Get some sleep.  I’ll be right here.”

“You… you’ll stay?”

“Yeah, kid, I’ll stay,” Len said, already looking to see which recliner was more comfortable.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“You know, you can be really nice when you’re not stealing things.”

Len let out a laugh.  “OK, kid.”

“’m not a kid.”

Len snorted.

“I’m twenty five.”

“You’re a kid.”

“You’re not that much older than me.”

“Do you know how old I am?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Thirty two – I read your file.”

“Of course you did.”

“That’s only seven years.  Not a kid.”

“Fine, Scarlet, not a kid.”

“So shut up.”

“Well someone gets grumpy when they’re tired.”

“Shut up.”

So Len fell into silence, and then so did Barry, and it wasn’t long before he was out, and Len sighed, and figured he might as well get some sleep as well if he was going to be camping out there.

 

 

When Len woke up the next morning, Barry was awake already, and looking at him.

“Morning, Scarlet,” Len said with a wince, stretching.  The recliner was not doing much for his neck and back.

“You’re still here,” Barry said hollowly.

“Yeah, kid,” Len said.

“Not a kid,” Barry mumbled, “you’re usually gone when I wake up.”

“Wanted to make sure you were still OK,” Len said.  “You call in sick?”

“No.”

“What time you supposed to be there?”

“Eight.”

Len looked at the clock.  It was seven thirty-six.  “You should call in, Scarlet,” he said.

Barry looked like he might acquiesce for a moment, looking like he really wanted to, but he shook his head and his eyes drooped. 

“I’ve missed too many days,” Barry said.

Len snorted.  “Pretty sure you could get medical leave if you wanted it, Scarlet.”

“I don’t.”

“Figured that.”

“I’ll be fine.  Just.  In a few minutes.  I’ll get up in a few minutes.”  His eyes slipped shut for a second, before opening again, and he deflated into the blankets a little more.

“How long have you been up?”

“About a half hour.”

“Well, that’s good,” Len said, “you got some sleep anyway.  You should stay home and get some more.”

Barry shook his head, but he looked miserable about it.

He looked up slowly.  “I had a panic attack?”

Len just looked at him for a second.  “Yeah, Scarlet.  That was a panic attack last night.  Pretty nasty one too.”

Barry looked down.  “I’ve never had one like that before.”

“It was rough,” Len said, “you’re OK now though.  Although I’d definitely say it warrants a sick day.”

Barry just shook his head.  “But nothing… I don’t know why it happened.  It just… I was… I was upset, and tired, and not really thinking straight, and then… then it just… got out of control.”

“You spiraled a little,” Len said, “it’s alright.  You need to take better care of yourself.  Sleep more.  Call someone _before_ the panic attack starts.”

Barry nodded slowly, sighing.  “I just… wanted to get through a night on my own.  And I… I thought I could handle it.”

Len sighed, and then started to get up, ignoring the way his back was aching.  “Well kid, if you’re dead set on getting to work, you better get on that now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one's shorter, I have more coming, just have to finish it up - hope you all are still enjoying the story, quick background for anyone who's confused and/or curious:
> 
> Learning to Breathe - first part in story  
> Drowning - second part in story, takes place a couple weeks after Learning to Breathe ends (which is about a month past this chapter of the story)
> 
> To recap, (because I've gotten a lot of questions on this), Drowning takes place after Learning to Breathe, about a month and a half/two months after where the story is currently in Learning to Breathe.
> 
> After Drowning, there will be a longer fic, and it will be rated E (E as in sex, a lot of sex, but all very much plot based - it will have a non-con warning for things that occurred before the start of Learning to Breathe) and will continue with Barry's recovery, but be very heavy on relationships.
> 
> I have a few other parts planned as well, after that.  
> Thanks for reading, as always - and please comment! (It totally makes my day and I really appreciate the feedback :) )


	16. Two, and a Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry burns his arm. The results are not fun.

There was an explosion – at a college, in the science department, and a fire started.  Barry got to the scene just in time to get the last student out.

And then he burned his fucking arm.

Barry came into Star Labs running and stopped short in front of Caitlin, gasping, tears in his eyes.

“It’s a chemical burn,” he said, clutching at it with his other hand.  He squeezed his eyes shut for a second.  He was shaking all over.  The suit was burned at his forearm, the material half melted onto his skin, the whole thing red and raw and charred.  He was covered in a few other cuts and bruises but pretty much OK besides the burn.  He let out a muffled scream, coming out through his teeth.  “Uhgg!  It hurts.”

“Alright, this way,” Caitlin said, quickly taking him by the elbow and hand, leading him over towards the sinks.

Barry bit his lip, following Caitlin.  When she pushed his arm down, into the sink, he didn’t protest.  She had an emergency wash set up and quickly went to flushing out the wound.

Barry gasped when it hit, but the sensation wasn’t painful.  If anything, it was helping – the cooling water easing the pain from the burn while washing out the chemicals in his skin.  She washed it with soap next.  The soap itself didn’t hurt, although Barry tensed up when she brought it to his skin.  But the rubbing on the wound did.  He let out another groan and tugged his hand away, stepping backwards.

“Barry,” Caitlin said, “I have to wash it out.  It’ll keep burning you if I don’t.  This is going to help with the pain, OK?  I know it hurts now but it’ll keep hurting if I don’t do this.”

Barry squeezed his eyes shut and gave in, stepping back and turning his head sharply to the side as Caitlin washed out the wound.  He was shifting so much it looked like he was dancing from foot to foot.

“Can I do anything?” Cisco asked.

“Get the IV stand out in his room and set up and turn on the TV or radio or something.”

Barry’s stomach twisted.  “IV?”

Cisco was already jogging down the hall, towards the room.  Barry turned back to Caitlin.

“It’s OK,” she said, seeing the panic on his face.  “You’re going to need fluids, Barry.”  She finished up washing his arm and turned the faucet off.  “I have a cooling gel in your room,” she said, leading him, once again, with a hand on his elbow, the other on his wrist.

He could barely walk, was stumbling, dizzy from the pain.

“Wh-what number?” he asked.

Caitlin seemed to not understand at first, and then realization dawned on her and she paused for a moment.  “Two,” she said, then thought for a second, “and a half.”

“And a half?” he asked, his voice squeaking.

“I’m going to get that gel for you,” she said, “and then you can have a little break and I’ll explain what I’m going to do, and then I have to do it.  I can’t wait longer than five or ten minutes.  After that you can have another break, and we can talk like if it’s a three.  Then I’ll need to put the IV in.  I won’t do it until then, though.”

Barry frowned, but then they were reaching the room.  Cisco had the IV up, and the TV was on but muted while calming music was playing.

“Alright, sit down,” Caitlin said.  “Lie back, you can sit up, but lie back, move over a little.”  Barry reclined against the headboard, the pillows cushioning it and Caitlin covered a pillow with a towel and placed it to Barry’s left, then put his arm over it, like an armrest.  “Move that over there,” she said to Cisco, pointing to the IV.

“You just told me to –”

“Move it,” Caitlin insisted, and Cisco huffed, wheeling it over to the other side of the room.  Barry felt some relief when it was farther away from him.

He barely noticed that Caitlin had left until she was back at his side with a tube of something.

“OK,” she said, spreading the cream out over her gloved fingers.  “This should help the pain go down,” she said, and then paused.  “It might hurt a bit at first, OK?  I promise it’ll help.”

Barry swallowed hard and nodded and Caitlin began spreading it over the burn.

Barry jumped and pulled away, but Caitlin kept his arm in place.  “Relax,” she said, “I know it hurts, this’ll help.  Give it a second.”

A cooling feeling swept over Barry’s arm and he sucked in a breath.  Caitlin’s fingers were still moving, and it was so rough on his damaged skin, but the cream that she had already applied was starting to work, and it was soothing the worst of the burn.  Not enough to take away the pain completely by any means, but enough to take the edge off it.

“Oh, God,” he said.  It hurt.  It really fucking hurt and even with the cooling gel it was still bad.

“Burns are painful,” Caitlin said, taking in a breath, “this one’s pretty bad.  You’ll still be OK – you’ll be fine in a few hours, but I know it really hurts now.”

Caitlin finished up applying the cream and Barry looked down at the wound, squirming on the bed from the pain.  He was taking in deep, gasping breaths, but had managed to regain some control, the tears he had been blinking back gone now.

“OK,” Caitlin said.  She moved the hand that had been holding his wrist into his hand instead, and her grip on his arm turned comforting.  “I’m going to need to get rid of the dead skin, Barry.”

“The – the what?” Barry said, looking at her with alarm.

“I need to flush out and cut away the dead skin,” she said.

“No,” he said, face twisting, breathing picking up, “Caitlin, not – you can’t cut into me, please – no knives, I – no.”

“You won’t feel the knife,” Caitlin said, rubbing his arm gently, “because I’ll only be using it on dead skin.  It is going to hurt, but it won’t feel like I’m cutting into you, it’ll feel more like pinches.  I have to do it in order to let it heal.”

“It hurts,” he said, “it already hurts bad, Cait.”

“I know, Barry.  When I finish this I’ll put some more of that cream on and wrap it up for you, OK?”

“No,” he said, shaking, “No – I – I can’t – I can’t do that, I – no, _no_.”

“Barry,” Caitlin said, her grip tightening on his arm as he tried to pull away.  “It hurts a lot right now, right?”

Barry nodded, biting his lip again.  It was a burning, deep pain that was impossible to ignore.

“You want it to stop, right?”

Barry shuddered, not liking where this was going, but nodded again.

“Well this is the only way it’s going to stop.”

“But –”

“No,” she said, “this is the only way it’s going to stop.  It’s going to hurt a bit more at first, but then it’ll allow it to heal, and it’ll start feeling better.  You can do this.  You’ll be fine.  I’m right here.”

“I can’t breathe.”  He was hyperventilating, but it felt like he was drowning, like there was no oxygen.

“OK, easy, slow your breaths down, Barry.”

“Here,” Cisco said, moving around to his other side and holding out a bottle of water, “take a few sips.”

Barry took it, nearly choked once, and then drank some.  He wouldn’t give it back when he was finished.

“Barry,” Caitlin said, “I want you to look at the TV, OK?  Cisco, can you unmute it?”

Cisco nodded, grabbed the remote and sound started pouring out.

“Watch the TV,” Caitlin said, “Take Cisco’s hand.”

Cisco put it out, and Barry, trembling, took it in his right hand after nestling the water bottle in the crook of his arm.  Cisco stopped to cap it for him first.

“Eyes stay on the TV,” Caitlin said, “You can talk to Cisco if you want.  I’m not here.  I’m just working – I’m going to make your arm better.  Focus on the TV.”

Barry cried out as he felt a sharp pinch on his arm.  His head jerked over and Caitlin paused.

“Eyes over, Barry.”

Barry trembled and turned back.

“Focus on the show,” Cisco said, “ignore Cait.”

Barry groaned with another sharp pain.  He fidgeted on the bed, squirming, clenching his fingers tight around Cisco’s hand.

“Stop,” Barry said, squeezing his eyes shut, the tears back, “Caitlin, please.”

Caitlin paused and Barry heaved in breath, shaking.  “I really have to keep going, Barry,” Caitlin said, gently, patting his shoulder to try and get him to calm down a little, “I need to get this done.  Can you let me do that?  Do you think you can just watch the show with Cisco and ignore me?  Just for this one part, and then you can have a break?  Can you do that for me?”

Barry whimpered and nodded after a moment, looking at Cisco and then back at the TV.

“Good job, Barry,” Caitlin said, going back to working.  “You’re doing a great job.  Thank you for letting me work.  You’re being really brave, good job.”

Barry breathed shallowly through his mouth, trying to take deeper breaths.  A couple tears ran down his face and Cisco squeezed his hand

“It’s OK, man.  I know it hurts, but it’ll be over in a little bit.”

Barry nodded, trying his hardest to focus on the TV show and not on what Caitlin was doing.  He squeezed down on Cisco’s hand, and wished he was at home.  It hurt, everything Caitlin was doing, and it seemed to highlight the panic, make it all dizzying.  Caitlin went on for a bit.

“I finished up that part,” Caitlin said, “I’m going to keep going.”

Barry barely registered the words.  He shut his eyes for a moment, tears leaking out the side, and shuddered.  He opened them again, and Cisco said something to direct his attention back to the TV.  He was starting to feel sick, stomach turning.

Then there was a sharp pain, and Barry felt a spike of fear go up his spine, ice cold, dizzying.  It was a pure shot of adrenaline and suddenly Barry was terrified.

“Stop, Caitlin, stop,” he said, jerking his arm back frantically.  He started fighting, really fighting now.

“Barry,” Caitlin said, stopping working and just grabbing his wrist hard.

“Ow, stop, Caitlin, _stop_.”  Tears welled up in his eyes and he had his other hand around his arm, using both to pull back, to try and get away.  Cisco was bracing his shoulders, trying to keep him in place.

“Barry, do you need a break?”

Barry blinked.  He stared up at Caitlin.  “Yes,” he said as soon as it registered through, “yes, I need a break, yes.”

“Then ask for a break,” Caitlin said.

He stared at her a little dumbfounded at first.  “Can I have a break?”

“Yes,” she said, and then let go of his arm, loosening her hold to just the slightest touch, gently placing it down.  “You just have to ask, Barry,” she said, rubbing his shoulder gently.  “Just ask for a break, it’s OK.”

“You just said I couldn’t have one,” he mumbled.

“I finished up that part,” she said, “take some deep breaths.  You don’t need to fight us, Barry, we’re on your side.  Just tell us what you need.  If you need a break just say so, you don’t have to fight us – you don’t have to be scared.  Just talk to us.  I know sometimes it’s really overwhelming, and your first instinct is to try to get away, but talk to us instead.  Let us help.  I really, really don’t want you struggling and then hurting yourself worse in the process, Barry.”

Barry sniffed, trying to reign in his breathing again, cradling his arm in close to his body.  “You kept going.  You usually keep going.  You usually don’t let me have a break.”

“If we can’t give you a break there’s a good reason,” she said, “and if we can than all you have to do is ask.  It’s OK.  Trust us, Barry.  I know you’re scared.  You have to trust us, at least a little bit.”

“I trust you,” he said hollowly, a little bit offended that they thought he didn’t.

Caitlin just smiled and shook her head.  “No, you don’t.  Not when it comes to this stuff.  That’s OK.  I know I put you through a lot of things you don’t want to do, along with a lot of pain.  Just trust me enough to know what I’m doing, and to always be trying to do what’s best for you, OK, Barry?”

He nodded, silent.  Cisco offered him some more water, which he drank, and then Caitlin was gently touching his arm again.

“I’m going to start again, OK, Barry?”

Barry tensed up, but Caitlin just kept looking at him.

“And what are you going to do?”

“I… what?”

“What are you going to do?  Once I start.  What are you going to focus on?”

“Breathing?”

“Yes.  Breathing nice and deep.  It’ll keep the pain down, and help you relax.  And you’re going to talk to Cisco if you want to, or just focus on the show.”

“OK.”

“And if the pain gets too much, or you start to panic…?”

“I’ll ask for a break.”

“Yes,” Caitlin said, “this last part – this is a three, so take some deep breaths.  We have a pretty fair amount of time before it starts to interfere with the healing, so now that I’m done with that first part, we can take it slow.  Just tell me when you want to stop, but try to stay still for me.  Take deep breaths through the pain, and try to distract yourself, but if it gets too much, tell me.  Don’t pull away, because I could accidently hurt you.  Just tell me you need a break.”

Barry nodded, and Cisco got his attention again before he could see the scalpel.  Little shots of pain ran up and down his arm as Caitlin worked, and as much as he was trying to watch the TV, all he could seem to think about was the pain.  It wasn’t even a minute later when he spoke again.

“C-can I have – ah, ah- break, _break_ , please.”  His voice came out squeaky, too high, frantic.  He was starting to pull away, trying to stop himself when Caitlin lifted the tools away, just grasping his wrist lightly.

“You can have a break,” she said.  She saw his face and frowned.  “Barry, just relax.  It’s OK.  We can stop for a minute.”

He shook his head.  “No, I – I can’t, this – it hurts, I can’t get through it, I’m not going to be able to get through it.”  He was crying again, trembling.

“Hey,” she said, putting an arm around his shoulder, rubbing gently, “you can do it.  We can take as many breaks as you need.  This isn’t really that painful, Barry.  Not compared to what you’ve done before.  You’re just thinking about it too much.”

“I – I can’t stop,” he said, “it hurts, Cait, it just – it’s not working, the TV, or – or Cisco, it’s not.”

“OK,” she said, “take a deep breath, Barry.  Just relax.  We’ll try something else.  Cisco, why don’t… yeah, why don’t you take his hand…”  Cisco was already holding Barry’s hand so he just held it up a little.  “Barry, let go of Cisco’s hand,” she said.  Barry released Cisco’s hands, fingers loosening around his palm.  “Alright, Cisco, why don’t you give Barry a hand massage?”

“A massage?” Cisco said, blanching.

“ _Yes_ ,” Caitlin said, giving him a look.

“Alright, fine,” he grumbled, “but I have no idea what I’m doing, so don’t expect anything –”

“Great,” Caitlin said, ignoring him as Cisco took Barry’s hand in both of his, working his thumbs down on Barry’s palm.  “Now, Barry, you just focus on that.  Focus on _that_ sensation, not anything else.”

“OK,” he said, still looking apprehensive.  When Caitlin turned to grab something from the tray he tensed.  “Wait, I- I’m not ready,” he said.

“OK,” Caitlin said, turning around again.  “But I need to start up again.  We don’t have unlimited time, just more of it.  Want help breathing?”

Barry nodded and Caitlin counted off while Barry breathed in deeply, taking slower and slower breaths until his body had calmed down.

“OK, start focusing on your hand.  Just your hand.  Close your eyes.”

Barry closed his eyes.  He focused on the feeling in his hand, the soft circles Cisco was rubbing into his palm, the touches over his fingers.  It felt nice, was easy to concentrate on at that moment.

“Can you talk to me?” he asked Cisco, opening his eyes for a second.

“Yeah, man, whatever you want,” Cisco said, and his eyes were wide and clear, his expression hopeful, and Barry knew that he meant it, that he was being more sincere than just with this one request – he’d do anything for Barry, to make things easier.

“Can you just – just tell me about something nice,” he said.

Cisco’s face scrunched up a bit.  “Something nice,” he said, trailing off, “oh, I know, how about my last family vacation?  I mean, it wasn’t really all that nice at the time, but it’s kind of funny now, we went down to the beach…”

He kept going, and Caitlin gently took Barry’s arm again, firm enough for him to realize she was starting without her having to say anything.  She started again, and at first Barry jumped and his focus shifted to her, his face drawing up in a cringe, but Cisco quickly got his attention again, asking him questions this time to keep his focus on him and not Caitlin.  He kept going with his hand, too, a pleasant sensation that gave Barry something else to attach to during the particularly painful bits.

He made it a few minutes this time, before he had to stop.  Caitlin had to cut deeper to get a bit of dead skin, and the result was a sharp pinching sensation that ripped all the way up his arm, burning.  The pain was white hot, sharp, and sudden, and it had Barry jerking upwards, screaming.

“Stop, stop, Cai- wa- break, _break_ , please, please bre- I – I –”

“Easy, easy,” Caitlin said, rubbing his back.  Barry was hyperventilating, gasping. 

“I – no, Cai- please, please hurts.”  Tears were springing to his eyes and Barry looked desperately at Caitlin.

“Shh,” she said, “shh, you’re OK.  It’s OK.  I know that hurt, but you’re OK.  Deep breaths now, calm down.  It’s all over.”

Barry shook his head, starting to cry.  He was trembling all over.  Caitlin leaned in a little closer and he wanted to hide in the embrace.

“It’s OK,” she said, “you’re OK.  Can you say that with me, Barry?  I’m OK.  Can you say that with me?  Come on, I’m OK.  I’m OK.”

“I’m OK,” he repeated, and then again, “I’m OK.  I’m OK.  I’m OK, I’m OK, I’m OK.”  He found himself relaxing a little bit.

“That’s it,” Caitlin said, “that one hurt, but it’s all done.  You’re OK.  We’re gonna break a little bit longer, OK?  And then we’ll start again.  Do you want some water?”

Barry nodded, feeling shaky, and took a few sips.  Caitlin kept rubbing his back, and Cisco was looking at him worriedly.

“It’s OK, man.  You just got surprised, that’s all.  You’re OK.”

“I’m OK,” he repeated, and closed his eyes for a second.  Logically, he knew what Caitlin was doing with the phrase – cognitive psychology – but he didn’t care at the moment – it was helping him calm down, helping him realize that he really was OK.  He wasn’t dying, no one was putting him through pain at the moment, and he was safe, with his friends, with people he trusted.  The pain had stopped, and now it was over and he was OK.  Even though he’d have to go through some more, that blinding white hot burn was gone now, only lasted a second.

“OK, Barr, we’re going to start again, alright?  Are you OK with that?”

It was the first time she’d asked him if he was OK with starting again, and he just blinked at first.  Usually there was so much coercing at that stage that they didn’t give him a choice, they had already given him as much time as he could have.  He was very tempted to say no, to drag it out as long as he could, but he didn’t really want a time crunch in the end, didn’t want Caitlin saying that she was sorry, she had to go straight through now, it was taking too much time, so he swallowed, closed his eyes and nodded fast.

“Alright, just some little stuff right here.  Ask for a break when you need one.  It’s OK.  I’m right here.  Talk to Cisco.”

At the prompt Cisco launched back into his story, and Barry tried to pay attention, but he was more on edge now, not quiet recovered from that last shock, and he was scared.  He couldn’t summon the focus to pay as much attention to Cisco, and as a result the pain seemed sharper.  He whimpered and groaned and was barely through two minutes of it when he wanted to stop again, had the words on the tip of his tongue, but he was trying to last a little bit longer, and managed for about another thirty seconds before he caved and asked for a break.

“How much longer?” he asked as Cisco gave him some more water.  He held onto the bottle this time, feeling the cold seep through the plastic onto his hands.  It felt comforting.

“You’re a little more than halfway through,” Caitlin said.

Barry’s face fell.  “Just half?”

“A little more than half,” she said, “I’m sorry, Barry, I know it’s hard.”

“It’s starting to really hurt,” he said, trembling.

“You’re just focusing too much on it,” Caitlin said.  “Want to try something else?”

Barry nodded desperately, and Caitlin walked away for a second, and when she came back she was holding out a pack of gum.

“What is that?” Barry asked.

She handed him a stick.  “Are you ready to start again?”

This time he shook his head, fast.

“OK, then let’s wait.”

They waited a couple more minutes, letting Barry relax.  When he was breathing evenly again Caitlin instructed him to start chewing the gum, and she set to work on his arm.

It was spicy gum.  Barry blinked in surprise and shot a look over at Caitlin.  She just smiled before going back to working.  Barry looked back at Cisco, who started up the conversation again.

It helped.  Not much, but it did.  It gave him something else to focus on, like the little hand massage Cisco did.  He made it a few more minutes this time.  The pain melted out to a distracting, unpleasant background in his mind.  Caitlin was working on little parts now, nothing too painful, so he was able to block it out better.  When it got a little too much, a burning drawing to the forefront of his mind again, he asked for a break.  When he was breathing evenly again they went back to it.  That ended with a sharp pain, and Barry letting out a cry.  They went back to it, and after that it wasn’t as good.  Another bad, sharp pinch ran up his arm, and Barry cried out.  This one lingered, and he was asking for a break quickly, voice frantic, and Caitlin stopped.  He gripped his arm in tight to his chest.

“It hurts,” he said, tears in his eyes. 

“I know, Barry, just take deep breaths.”

“That – it still hurts,” he said, and after struggling for a second let out a short sob.

“I know, you can have a break.  We’ll wait until it stops.”

He nodded and let out another small sob.  He trembled for a while, still crying, until he finally, slowly looked up.

“It stopped,” he said, voice hoarse.

“We can wait a bit more,” Caitlin said, “if you need it.”

But Barry shook his head.  “I really want it done.”  There was a silent plea in his voice.

“I’m almost done,” she said, “you wanna let me finish up?”

He nodded.

“OK,” she said, “I’ll finish up.  This shouldn’t be as bad.  I think that was the last bad part.”

She finished, and he let her, without any more breaks.  When it was done he slumped over, and shook.

“Can you call Iris?” he asked, and his voice cracked.

“I’m on it,” Cisco said, already pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, Barr, we’ll call her,” Caitlin said, pushing the sweaty hair off of his face. “We’re all done with that part.  I’m going to apply some cream, OK?  It’ll make it feel better.  The same cooling one from before.”

Barry nodded, and didn’t protest as she applied it and then wrapped up his arm.  Caitlin took in a deep breath.

“Barry?” she said, “I’m gonna have to put in that IV now.”

Barry’s eyes snapped open, on her immediately. 

“No, Caitlin, please,” he begged, “please, I don’t want it, please.  I’ll eat and drink, I’ll – just give me the food.  Please, I don’t want an IV, please.”

“I’m sorry, Barry,” Caitlin said, pushing his hair back a little more, gently, “it has to be done.”

“No, please, Cait, please,” he said, more desperate now, “please, don’t make me have one, please, Cait.”

“I’m sorry, Barr, really,” Caitlin said, “we can wait a minute.  Do you want to wait until Iris gets here?”

He nodded fast, and when she got there started trembling all over.

“OK, Barry,” Caitlin said, already holding the needle.

“No, come on,” Barry said, “I don’t need it, I feel fine.  Please, please Cait, I don’t need it, please.”

“Can I see your arm, Barry?”

Barry shook his head, looking at Iris for help.

“It’s OK,” she said, “you can squeeze my hand.”

“No I can’t,” he said, letting out a sob.  “She’s gonna put it in this arm.”

“Alright, well then I’ll go right here, and you can lean against me, and not look.”

Barry let out another sob, turning his head onto Iris’s shoulder, where she had positioned herself so that she could almost but not quite embrace him.  Caitlin took his arm gently, and tried to get him to relax before she did it, but when that seemed to be going in circles just curtly told him she was going to do it, and then did before he could protest or work himself up with the anticipation.  He cried against Iris, and Caitlin finished setting it up, offering soft reassurances the whole time, and then coaxing him back out afterwards.  He mumbled and complained to Iris, until he dropped off to sleep.


	17. What Are You Doing Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry won't eat. This one's really short, but I have more on the way, just give me a day or two.

 

Barry stared at the plate.  He crossed his arms.

“No.”

“Barry,” Caitlin said, for what felt like the hundredth time, “we need you to eat, Barry.”

Caitlin gave him a pleading expression.  Barry scowled.

“No.”

“Barry,” Caitlin said.

“Take the IV out.”

“Barry, you’ll get it out faster if you eat,” Iris said.

“No.  Take the IV out.”

Caitlin pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Not this again.”

“Again?” Iris asked, turning to her.

“He did this when we put an IV in after he broke his wrist and Oliver had to go get him,” Caitlin said, “he wouldn’t eat anything then either.”

“Just take it out,” Barry said.

“I can’t, Barry,” Caitlin said, “you need nutrients, more than you can consume, but more than I can get in you with the IV too.  I need you to eat, Barry.  Please.  It’ll make you feel better, and it’ll let the burn heal faster – make the pain go down faster.”

“Take it out and I’ll eat.”

“Barry,” Caitlin said, “I can’t do that this time.  Please.  You need it in.  It’s already in, it doesn’t hurt, it’s just uncomfortable.  We’ll put a show on for you, talk to you – I mean, for God’s sake Barry, eating will probably take your mind off it too.”

“I’m not eating,” Barry said darkly.

“Barry,” Iris said, her face stern.

“I’m not.”

“Barry Allen.”

“My stomach hurts and I don’t want this stupid thing in my arm,” Barry mumbled.  “I don’t want to eat.  I don’t want the IV.”

“I’m sorry, Barry,” Iris said, “I’m sorry this happened, I’m sorry you’re in pain, and I’m sorry it’s upsetting you so much, but you still have to do what your doctors say.  You need to eat.”

“No.”

Caitlin walked away.  After sending a confused glance at Barry, Iris followed her.  Caitlin walked out into the hallway and pulled out her phone.  By the time Iris reached her she was already talking.

“It’s Caitlin…” she said, walking around the hallway in circles, phone held to her ear, “yeah, we’re at Star Labs.  No, he won’t eat, and… he got burned.  He’s fine, just… yeah, he has to eat to heal and he’s being difficult.  He’s upset that we put an IV in.  OK… yeah, that’s fine.  OK… thanks.”  She hung up.

“Who was that?” Iris asked.

Caitlin took in a deep breath, walking past her back to the room. 

“Leonard Snart.”

 

 

 

 

“What are you _doing_ here?” Barry said, staring.

Len crossed his arms in front of him.  “How many times do we have to have the conversation about listening to your doctors?”

Barry sputtered.  “It’s not… that’s not fair.  And – and what – _what_ are you _doing here?_ ”

“You already asked that,” Len said.  He moved across the room and dragged over a folding chair, sitting right in front of him.  “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Be-because I – I don’t want to,” Barry said, still thrown by his presence at Star Labs.  Caitlin and Iris were standing by the door.  Barry leaned around Len to stare at them.  “ _What is he doing here?_ ”

“I called him,” Caitlin said.

“You _called_ him?”

“I called him.”

“Why the hell did you call him?”

“You wouldn’t eat.”

“But that’s – that’s not a reason to _call_ him!”

Caitlin shrugged.

“So,” Len said, when Barry’s attention was back on him.  “Answer my question.  Why aren’t you eating?”

“Because I don’t want to,” Barry said, scowling now, at all three of them, “I’m not hungry and I don’t feel good and they won’t take the freaking IV out.”  His face twisted painfully.

“OK,” Len said, his tone softening a little bit.  “I get the not hungry and not feeling good part.  That’s sucks.  I don’t think you’ll puke though, you don’t seem sick.  But the IV thing – that sucks, Scarlet, but it’s not really relevant to the not eating.”

“I want them to take it out,” Barry grumbled.

“They’re not taking it out,” Len said flatly, “I know you don’t like it, and it’s uncomfortable and anxiety provoking, but you need it.  End of discussion.  That’s your doctor’s call, and she’s told you that you need it.”

Barry scowled some more.  “That’s not fair.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s fair,” Len said, “you have to have it in.  End of discussion, Scarlet.  End.  It stays in.  Now why don’t you take a bite of that sandwich?”

Barry shook his head.  “I’m not hungry,” Barry said.  He looked away.

“You need to eat, Barry,” Len said.

“I don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry you don’t want to,” Len said, “you still need to.”

Barry just scowled, turned his eyes away, not looking at him.

Len sighed and closed his eyes for a second.  “Barry,” he said again, his voice softer this time, “what’s going on?”

Barry fidgeted.  He was silent for a few moments.  “I want the IV out,” he mumbled.

“You have to have it in,” Len said gently, “it’s helping you.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know, Scarlet,” Len said, “how about just a few bites?”

Barry gave him a miserable look, and Len sighed.

“Alright, five bites, OK?  Five bites and then we can do whatever you want.”

“I want to sleep.”

“Fine.  You want me to talk to you?”

Barry looked down and nodded, embarrassed.

“Alright.  That’s fine, Scarlet.  Why don’t you take five bites for me and then you can lie down and relax and I’ll talk to you, OK?  That sound alright?”

Barry fidgeted some more.  He looked at the plate with distaste.

“When can I get the IV out?” he asked softly.

Len looked over at Caitlin.  She was standing by the door with Iris, whose eyes looked about as big as plates.

“When can the IV come out?” he asked.

Caitlin grimaced.  “Tomorrow morning if he eats a good breakfast.”

Len looked back at Barry.  He looked miserable.

“Morning’s not so bad, Scarlet,” Len said.

“I want it out now,” he mumbled.

Len sighed.  He put a hand over Barry’s knee, and started rubbing circles with his thumb.  “I know.  Why don’t you eat a little bit, and then you can go to sleep, and when you wake up, we can get that thing out for you.”

Barry slumped down further but nodded miserably.  Len picked up the sandwich and handed it to him.

He ate the five bites.  It wasn’t much, but it was calorie enhanced thanks to Cisco.  Afterwards, Barry lay down on the bed there in the corner of the room, and Len kept a hand over his knee, and talked to him in random circles until he fell asleep.  It took him a while this time – a long while of shifting and squirming and then Len stopping, thinking he was asleep, only for Barry to shift or open his eyes and ask him to keep talking.  When he was finally, finally asleep, Len stood up carefully.

Iris, Caitlin, and Cisco stared at him from the doorway.

Len sighed.


	18. I'm Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len and Caitlin talk. Barry... well, it get's worse. Another short one, but two in one day so you'll have to take it.  
> Trigger Warnings: Depression (not very descriptive really though)

“If this is some kind of ploy, Snart –”

Len sighed.

“- then it’s low – even for you.  Like, underground low.  Center of the earth l-”

“I get the idea,” Len said, interrupting Cisco.  “I’m the absolute scum of the earth – we can move on now.”

Cisco glared, eyes narrowed.  “He went through an extremely traumatizing experience and using that to your gain would be –”

“What could I possibly have to gain –”

“Earning his trust, finding his weaknesse-”

“I already know as much as I would about his weaknesses and as far as his trust, that would be fairly futile at this point, I would think.”

Cisco’s eyes narrowed some more.  “You better not hurt him.”

Len snorted, resisted the urge to call out a “and what are you going to do about it?”

“Len –” Caitlin said.

“Oh, not you too,” Cisco said, throwing up his hands.  “You’re on a first name basis with a renowned international criminal too now?”

Caitlin shot him a glare.  “Len,” she said again, “thank you for helping with Barry.  I’d appreciate it if you’d leave now.”

Len raised an eyebrow, but when Caitlin started walking, he followed her, passing a still glaring Cisco on the way to the elevators.  It was silent the whole way, uncomfortably so.  Caitlin’s face was blank, although there was a visible tension to her.  Len followed her to the door, and started to walk out when she stopped in front of it.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, Len,” Caitlin said, abruptly as his hand touched the door.  Len paused, and looked over.  Caitlin’s face was weary, and worn, tired looking.  “But you’re helping him right now, and he needs that.  Please don’t make me regret this.”  And before he could say anything, or even think of any words to say, she had already turned around and walked away.

 

 

Barry lay on the couch staring at the ceiling.  He’d been in the same position for almost an hour now.  It was a Tuesday, and it was just after six.  He’d gotten home from work and almost immediately lay down.  He’d done the same thing on Monday as well.

That’s how Joe found him.  Lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, for the second day in a row.  It made his stomach clench.

“Rough day, kiddo?”  Joe put his bag down, moved over carefully to one of the chairs, but not sitting down.

Barry shrugged.  His eyes were open, but they were vacant, not focusing on anything.

“You want to tell me about it?”

He shrugged again.

After a moment, Joe sighed, and went into the kitchen.  “I’m going to make spaghetti for dinner,” he said, waiting to see if that got a reaction.  It didn’t.

Joe made dinner, and when it was ready, told Barry, who got up as if in slow motion, and then went over to the kitchen table and sat down.  He picked at the food absently, and in silence, and when Joe had finished his dinner and Barry had picked apart his and eaten maybe a third of it, he got up, threw out the rest, and then went up the stairs to his room, mumbling something about going to bed early.  After a few minutes hesitation, Joe followed him upstairs.

He rapped at Barry’s door, and when a mumbled response came through the wood, opened it.  Barry was lying in bed, on his side now, with the lights off, except for the lamp on his desk which he used as a sort of ultra-strength night light.  Joe turned the lights on in the room, flicking the switch, and then walked over to sit down on the edge of Barry’s bed.

“Son,” he said. 

Barry made a noise in his throat in response, an acknowledgement.

“You look like you’re not doing too well,” Joe said carefully.  He touched Barry’s leg, and when he didn’t move away left it there, on his calve.

“I’m fine,” Barry said.

Joe sighed.  “It really doesn’t look like it, Barr.  Could you talk to me?  Tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m just tired,” Barry said, but his throat sounded raspy.  Joe frowned.

“You look like you’re a little more than tired, kiddo,” Joe said gently.  “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Barry shook his head.

“The nightmares bothering you?”

He shook his head again.  “Not more than usual.”

“OK,” Joe said, “can I stay up here with you?”

Barry paused, and then a flicker crossed his face, a sudden pang, but it flew across his expression fast and then was gone again.  He hesitated another second, and then nodded, eyes glancing over for just a second.  There was a sort of desperate _please_ in there, one that Joe wasn’t sure Barry registered himself.

“You’ve been really quiet,” Joe said, “how are things going?”

Barry shrugged.  Joe waited another few moments but got no response.

“Are you doing OK with the anxiety?  Is it getting too unmanageable sometimes?”

He shook his head again.

Joe sighed.  “Can you tell me what’s bothering you, Barry?  You haven’t been yourself lately.”

Barry shrugged.  “I don’t really feel good,” he said.  It came out soft and raspy, his voice low.

“Yeah, I figured out that much,” Joe said with a gentle laugh, before his tone went back to calm and serious, “what’s going on?”

Barry shrugged again.  “I’m just tired.”

“I don’t think you’re just tired,” Joe said, “I think somethings up.  Can you tell me what that is, Barry?”

“I don’t know,” Barry said, but his voice had sunk to a whisper, “I just don’t feel good.”

“OK,” Joe said gently, hearing the beginnings of panic and frustration in Barry’s voice.  “I think we should take you to see your therapist tomorrow morning.”

Joe tensed, and waited.  But Barry didn’t move.  He just lay there, eyes wandering, looking at the sheets and then the wall, fingers moving, twining the sheets between them in a languid, idle way.  After a few moments, he said, quietly, “OK.”

Joe felt a spike of alarm.  He had expected Barry to protest.  The fact that he didn’t had him going from worried to highly concerned in an instant.  He had to wait a few seconds to calm himself, make sure none of that worry slipped into his voice.

“OK,” Joe said, “I’m going to call the office, and then your therapist, OK?  I’ll set you up an appointment.  Do you want something to drink, Barr?  I think I’m gonna stay with you tonight if that’s alright.”

Barry nodded slowly.  “Apple juice?”

Joe let out a breath.  “Yeah, I’ll grab it from downstairs.  I’ll be right back, OK?”

Barry nodded.  “OK.”

Joe stepped carefully out of his room, and only then allowed himself to experience the full brunt of alarm and worry that had just swept over him.

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t exactly unexpected, but the fact that it had come on so quickly and so acutely was still concerning.  It wasn’t like Barry hadn’t been experiencing some mild symptoms before, but it had escalated to full blown, severe major depressive disorder in a couple of days, and that was alarming.  Barry’s therapist quietly suggested out-patient treatment to Joe if things continued to progress.

Barry was sluggish and seemed to be in a perpetual state of “blue,” but when he was out, he could still function at a moderate level.  Which meant he could do his job, could go to crime scenes, and although he was now silent almost all of the time, and hid in his lab even more than usual, he still got the work done.  It became a kind of singular world for him, getting himself lost and distracted in the work of it, hyper-focused so that he didn’t have to think about anything else.  And when the day was over and he went home, he crashed on the couch and deteriorated to something closer to a zombie, sometimes downright unresponsive, other times disappearing only for Joe to find him hidden away, crying, looking absolutely miserable, or worse, shaking uncontrollably, trying to get a handle on himself.  He either shut down, or boiled over.  There didn’t seem to be any in between.

Flash work was bad.  Cisco and Caitlin stopped calling him, so the only times he did anything Flash related was when he went to them, looking for something, which was fairly often, and it irritated him that they weren’t calling him.  It became another obsession.  He had to help people, had to do something.  He was sporadic and unpredictable in the timing and duration of when he decided to be the Flash, or really, when he felt the need to be the Flash, to be doing something instead of sitting still, lost in his own thoughts.  It was another distraction, and it was laced up in guilt, the idea that he had to be helping people, that he owed it to everyone because he had the abilities.  He couldn’t stand the idea of people getting hurt, knowing that he could have helped them, and didn’t.  Everything narrowed down to work at the precinct, listless, numbing blocks of time when he felt practically incapable of moving, and the desperate bursts of energy as the Flash.

The nightmares grew less frequent though, as did the panic attacks.  When they did happen it was abrupt, short, and violent, and seemed to leave a mark on him that lasted for hours if not into the next day.  Everyone was worried, and no one knew what to do.

Well, Iris thought she knew what to do.  Or at least she thought she knew what to maybe do, and that was all she really had right now.

She knocked on the door to Barry’s lab at the precinct, heard a muffled reply through the wood, and walked in.  Barry was sitting at his desk, scratching out something on a piece of paper.

“Hey CSI,” Iris said, and dropped the bag she was holding onto his desk, “taken lunch yet?”

Barry looked up, and then at the bag.  “No – thanks,” he said, and pulled out a burger and started eating, still looking down at the paper.

“Barry,” Iris said.

“Mmm,” he said, crossing something out and rewriting a number.  He looked back up at her.

“Could you take a real lunch break?” she asked, “like one that doesn’t involve continuing to work?”

“Sorry,” he said, and put the pencil down, pushing the paper a little ways away.  He turned more fully towards her in the desk chair, and she dragged over another from a table off to the side.

“How’s work?” she asked, taking a seat.

“Fine,” he said, “what about the newspaper?  Did you get that story you wanted to write?”  Barry tried to smile, but it came out thin, his expression haggard.

“It’s still up in the air,” she said.  She paused.  “You look kind of tired.  Did you get enough sleep last night?”

Barry shrugged.  “Yeah.”

Iris frowned.  “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off.  You look a little sick.”

“I’m not sick,” Barry dismissed, “I’m fine.”

Iris shook her head.  “Do you feel OK?”

Barry looked away.  “Yeah, Iris, I’m fine.”

“You haven’t really seemed to be doing very well the last few days,” Iris tried, verging out in a gamble, hoping he didn’t shut down.

His eyes clouded.  “I’m fine,” he said again.

“Barry.”

He looked away.

Iris took in a deep breath.  “Barry,” she said, and she took one of his hands up, quick, before he could pull away.  “I can tell when you’re upset, Barry.  We grew up in the same house.  Don’t tell me you’re fine.”

Barry stared at the ground, but something flickered in his expression.  His mouth wavered.

“It’s just… it’s just not going great right now,” he said.  His mouth felt dry.

“What do you mean?” Iris asked.

He shook his head.  “Nothing,” he mumbled.

“Barry,” Iris said, and she gave his hand a squeeze.  “You’ve been miserable the past couple weeks.  You’re not doing well.  Let us help.”

Barry was quiet for a bit.  His tongue felt thick in his mouth, his throat tight.  He suddenly felt very hot.

“I don’t feel good,” he said, and it came out in a whisper, like it was a horrible secret.  He swallowed hard.  “Iris, I don’t feel good at all.”

Iris moved closer, reached out a hand and put it on his knee.  “Yeah, Barry, we were worried about that,” she said softly. 

“My therapist said I’m depressed,” he said, and swallowed hard again, “but… I just don’t want to think.”

Iris frowned.  “What do you mean?”

He shook his head, looked away.  He closed his eyes.  He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to remember.  He didn’t want to have to think about the next time he’d get injured, the next time he’d have a panic attack, the next time he’d wake up screaming.  He just wanted to shut his brain off, wanted it all gone.  He had tried, had tried to get back to a normal life after being taken and it hadn’t worked, just hadn’t.  And now he was shutting down, was shutting down because it was the only thing he thought was left.  He couldn’t do anything else.  It was too painful, too scary, too much.

“Barry,” Iris said after a breath.  “Barry, I really think you should take some time off from work and from being the Flash.”

Barry felt it like a punch in the gut, and suddenly everything was exploding.

He was so damaged, so broken that he couldn’t work, couldn’t help people.  He was defected, sick, so much so that people were going to die and get hurt because he couldn’t use his powers to save them.  And the guilt came crashing in.  He had a duty to help people, had a responsibility to use his abilities to help them, and he had a responsibility at work too, and he was shirking it, was giving it up because he couldn’t _handle_ it, couldn’t _take_ it.

“Barry?”

Barry’s eyes snapped up.  His mouth was open.  His mind couldn’t seem to form words.

“I…” he started suddenly, “I have to.”

“Barry,” Iris said, and her face softened.  “You don’t have to.  You can take some time off.”

He flinched.  “No.  I can do it – I can.”  He looked down again.

“I know you can,” Iris said, frowning, “but you don’t have to.  You can take some time off to get better.”

Barry shook his head.  “I – I can do it.  I can handle it.  I can, I’m not – I’m fine.”

“Barry,” Iris said.

He shook his head.  “No.  It’s fine.  I’m fine.  Just – thank you – for the lunch.  Thanks, but I – I really need to get back to this, so – I’ll talk to you later.  Thanks.”  He stood up quickly, ushering her out the door as she spoke.

“Barry,” Iris said, “I really think you should think about this.”

“I will,” Barry said, voice clipped, “I will, but it’s fine.  Thanks.  I’ll see you later.”  And he shut the door.


	19. Don't Make Me Tell Len

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is very fragmented - various little scenes over the course of about a week. In which we get a bit more positive since last chapter ended on such a negative note. Also, three more chapters? Maybe? Two? Four? The story continues in "Drowning" if you guys are looking for more :) I will be starting the next section soon as well, as "Drowning" is also almost over.

Barry had his hands clenched, teeth gritted, and his face was a mix of pale white and red blotches.  He was breathing way too fast.

“We can wait a few minutes,” Caitlin said, pausing with the shot in her hand.  “We don’t have to do it right now.”

“No,” Barry said, not looking over, closing his eyes and squeezing them shut.  “Just do it.  Do it now.”

“Barry,” Caitlin started.

“Please,” Barry said.

“OK,” Caitlin said, letting out a breath.  “Take a deep breath for me, OK?”

Barry nodded fast and took in a long breath, his knuckles going white on the edge of the counter.  Caitlin administered the shot, a tetanus booster, and Barry let out a shaky, panicked yelp of pain, only to squeeze his eyes shut tighter, shaking, as he began to hyperventilate worse.

“OK, it’s all done,” Caitlin said, taping on a quick Band-Aid and then rubbing his arm.  “Just take some deep breaths Barry, it’s all done.”

He kept breathing shallowly, too fast, and his face started to take on an ashen color.  His fingers tightened again.

“It’s OK, man,” Cisco said, putting his hand on Barry’s opposite shoulder.  “It’s all done.  Good as new.”

Barry nodded, and abruptly jumped down from the counter where he was sitting.  He started pacing, hands up behind his head, laced together, trying to take in deep breaths.

After another ten minutes of that, of Barry pacing and calming himself down and Cisco trying to distract him and Caitlin gently asking if he wanted anything, Barry had relaxed enough that he said a quick goodbye and then headed back to the station for work.  He was a half hour into reading case reports when his phone rang.  The caller id read “Cold.”

Barry frowned, watched it ring, and then go to voicemail.  Then it rang again.  Barry sighed.

“Look, Len, this is really not –”

“You’re not at home.”

Barry sputtered.  “No, I’m at work.  Why – are you at my house?”

“Yes.”

“Wh- why?”

“I was looking for you.”

“But why are –”

“Why are you at work?”

“Because some of us have day jobs, _Cold_.”

Len clicked his tongue.  “It’s almost six.  You get out at five.”

“Why do you _know_ that?”

“I do my research.  So, why are you still at work?”

“I didn’t finish,” Barry said, rubbing his forehead, and then over his eyes.  “There was a railway that collapsed – I had to speed over and get people out.”

“So why don’t you just speed through whatever you’re working on now?”

Barry rubbed at his eyes some more.  “Tired.”

There was a beat of silence.  “Barry, go home.  Do it in the morning.  You can speed through it then and get anything you didn’t do now done before anyone knows the difference.”

Barry played with the pen in his hand, spinning it around.  “I’d rather just get it done now.”

“When you’re tired and miserable?”

“I’m always tired and miserable,” Barry mumbled, “it won’t change in the morning.”

There was another beat of silence.  “I’m going to come pick you up,” Len said over the line.

“You can’t come here,” Barry said, “it’s the CCPD.”

“I’ll wait for you a block away.  Same as last time.  I’ll be there in twenty.”  And he hung up.

Barry put the phone down and closed his eyes.  What had he gotten himself into?

 

 

 

 

“Explain it to me one more time?”

Barry sighed.  He rubbed at his forehead.  “She said I’m depressed.  It started after the chemical burn and… and all of that.  I don’t know.  I just don’t feel good most of the time.  I’m just tired.”

Len frowned.  “That doesn’t sound good, Scarlet.”

Barry shrugged.  He held onto the water bottle in his hands, not thirsty anymore, just holding it.

“Has it occurred to you to maybe take some time of being the Flash until you’re a little better?  I mean – that is where most of your problems come from.  Injuries as the Flash.”

Barry shook his head again.  “I can’t stop.”

Len frowned, but didn’t say anything.

Barry got up for a moment.  He went into the kitchen, refilled his water bottle, and came back.  He started sipping again.

“You look awful,” Len said.  Barry didn’t even look up.  Len paused.  “Do you want to lie down and watch a movie?”

Barry looked up at that.  He had been expecting more questions, or more demands.  But Len… Len was just looking at him, face open, waiting for an answer.  Barry nodded.

“OK,” Len said, “let’s find a movie then.”

And they did.

 

 

They watched two movies.  And then Barry said Joe would be back soon, and Len probably didn’t want to be there when he did.  Len nodded, and started to get up to leave when he paused.

“Barry,” Len said, “I know the chemical burns and – and the procedures Caitlin had to do were really stressful.”  Barry tensed up.  “I really think you need to give yourself some time to readjust.  Take a few days off.  Don’t talk about it yet.  Just relax.  Spend time with your friends, with your family.  Just take a few days off to relax – so your body and your brain can learn that it’s safe again.  You’ll be OK, but you just keep adding stressors on and on and on.  Let your body figure out that it’s OK now.  You’re not giving it the chance to.”

 

 

 

 

Two days later, when Joe got home to find Barry sitting on the couch, in pajamas, with several empty buckets of ice cream lying around him, he stopped in the doorway.  Barry looked up from the book he was reading.

“I took a couple days off,” he said.

Joe just nodded, suppressing his surprise, and relief, at the statement.  He carefully moved around the couch and into the kitchen, before poking his head back in.

“You up for dinner, or was that the ice cream?”

Barry laughed.  “I’m always up for more dinner.”

Joe went back into the kitchen.  He was smiling.

 

 

 

“Hi, yes, um, Captain, this is Barry.  Allen.  Barry Allen.  I… um, I was wondering if – well I wanted to request – but it’s OK if I can’t, just, if it’s –”

“Spit it out, Allen.”

Barry took a deep breath, shifting the phone for a second.  He closed his eyes.

“I wanted to ask if I could take another few days off?  Unless you don’t have anyone to cover, then it’s fine, I can come in, just if no one –”

“Barry,” Singh said across the line, and Barry held his breath.  “That’s fine.  I’ll add it to your medical leave.  How long did you want?”

Barry’s eyes widened.  “Oh, um. I, uh, I was thinking until Tuesday?  If that’s alright?”

“How about I just schedule you off for the rest of this week and next.”

“Oh, um, I – I think I can come back before that.”

Barry heard Singh sigh across the line.  He winced.

“Barry, just take the week off.  Alright?  If for some reason on Wednesday you just feel the absolute need to come in to work, then you can give me another call, OK?  But as of right now I’m just going to schedule it so that you’re off.”

“OK,” Barry said finally.  “I, uh… I guess I can do that.”

“Great,” Singh said, “get some rest.  And if you need another week, just give me another call.”

“I will.  Thanks, Captain Singh.”

“Not a problem, Allen,” Singh said.

Barry hung up.  He looked over at Len.

“See,” Len said, “easy.”

“He’s not usually that nice,” Barry said, throwing the phone onto the bed.  “He’s usually yelling at me for being late.”

“You have documented, severe PTSD,” Len said, his voice flat, “even if he did hate you, he has to let you have the time off.”

Barry just grumbled before sitting down again next to Len.

 

 

 

 

Iris walked through the door in a flurry of movement, the door practically slamming.

Barry looked up from where he was currently desecrating another tub of ice cream. “Hello,” he said.

Iris walked over to where he was, grabbed the remote, and before Barry could do anything, turned the TV off.

“I was watching that,” Barry said, holding out his arms in vexation. 

Iris sat down on the couch next to him, and turned pointedly towards him.  Barry’s brow furrowed and he leaned back a little, an apprehensive look on his face.

“What did I do?” he asked, already searching his mind for something in the past few days that Iris could be mad about, could have found out about –

“When are you going to tell me,” she said, but it came out teasing instead of like a threat.

Barry just looked at her.  “Tell you what?”

She stared at him.

“What?” he said, the stare already starting to creep him out.  He leaned back only for Iris to lean forward, almost looming.

“When are you going to tell me about how Leonard Snart is here everyday?”

Barry almost choked on the spoon in his mouth.  “He – why – he’s not here every day.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “Oh really.”

“Yes, really,” Barry said, already averting his gaze as he mentally backtracked through the past week.  OK, so maybe he had come over that Thursday.  And then Friday… but he was still not doing very well then.  And… OK he had come Monday.  But only for a little bit, and anyway –

“So?” she said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barry said, looking anywhere but at Iris.

“Bullshit,” Iris said, and she hit his leg, causing him to jump.

“Ow!” he said, holding up the tub of ice-cream like he could use it as some sort of shield.

“Tell me what’s been going on.”

“Nothing’s been –”  And suddenly Iris had grabbed the spoon right out of his hand, and while Barry was still pondering that maneuver she used it to whack his hand.

“ _Ow_ ,” he said, dropping the ice-cream to cradle his hand protectively.  “Iris!” he said, indignation in his voice.

“Let’s try again,” Iris said, smiling brightly now.  “What has Leonard been doing over here all week?”

“He hasn’t been – ow, Iris, stop – he hasn’t – why do you keep _doing that?_ ”

“Because you are _ly-ing_ ,” Iris said in a sing-song voice, still smiling. 

“Fine – fine,” Barry said, ducking from the incoming attacks.  “He’s just been hanging out.  He was keeping me company.”

“Mmhmm,” Iris said, but she was obviously looking for more. 

Barry shifted a little.  “He’s just good with the panic stuff.”

Iris raised an eyebrow.  “Oh, so that’s it?  He’s just been helping you with the panic stuff, now?”

“Yes,” Barry said, indignant again, “he helps me breathe.  We practice breathing.  And… and other relaxation stuff.”

Iris gave him a skeptical look.  “And when he’s not helping you breathe, you two are just… hanging out?”

Barry looked at her blankly, at least he hoped it was blankly.  “Yeah,” he said.

“Doing what?” Iris pressed.

“I don’t know,” Barry said, “watching movies.  Reading books.  I eat a lot.”

Iris looked unimpressed.  “And that’s _all_ that goes on?”

“Yes,” Barry said, eyeing her confusedly now.

She narrowed her eyes a little.  “OK.”

Barry stared.  “OK?”

She looked away, seemed to think for a moment, and then nodded, “OK.”

Barry relaxed a little bit, and then stole his spoon back from Iris before going back to eating the ice cream.  Iris watched in equal parts rapture and disgust.

“You know,” she said, “even though you need more calories, I’m still pretty sure dozens of cartons of ice cream is not good for you.”

“Shut up,” he said, flicking a bit of ice cream at her, “I’m resting.  I can eat what I want.”

She laughed.  “OK, fine,” she said, “but there was something I wanted to talk to you about that.”

Barry deflated and then gave her a look.  “Whhaatt?” he said, already tired of the conversation before it even started.

“I think you should see your therapist more often,” Iris said solidly.

Barry frowned.  “No.”  He stabbed back at the ice cream.

“Barry.”

“No.”

“Barr.”

“I don’t want to.  Once a week is enough.”

“It’s helping,” Iris said, and Barry didn’t say anything.  She took a deep breath.  “I think you should really consider starting desensitization therapy.”

Barry froze.  When he spoke again his voice was low.  “No.”

“Barry –”

“No,” he said, “I’m not ready for that.  I’m even off work, Iris, I can’t – I’m obviously not well enough to start something like that.”

“You could wait to start until after you go back to work,” Iris said, “but I thought maybe it would make it easier.  If when you started you didn’t have work – so no added stressors.”

“I’m not doing it, Iris.  Not yet.”  Barry’s stomach clenched.  He knew this was coming, but they had been focusing so much on just managing his symptoms that no one had really said much about the next stage of recovery.

“OK,” Iris said, and Barry looked up suddenly, surprised.  She met his eyes and shrugged.  “I can’t make you,” she said, “you have to want it for yourself.  But, Barry.  When you do start – it would be at your pace.  You know that right?  It’s not like when Caitlin _has_ to give you a shot and you don’t get a choice.  If something’s too much, you just say no, and it stops.  You’d only do what you were comfortable with.  That’s how desensitization therapy works.”

“I know,” Barry said, looking down now, but he squirmed a little bit anyway.  The idea – he shuddered.  He just – the very idea of it terrified him.  Of starting a systematic therapy where he slowly exposed himself to the things he was afraid of most.  He knew what it entailed.  He had looked it up before.  He would have to work on it every day – do something for it pretty much every day.  And – that – no.  He just couldn’t.  He didn’t want to think about it.

“OK,” Iris said, and then put an arm around his bag, leaning in.  “I’m sorry, Barr, I didn’t mean to make you upset.  I just think you should think about it.”

“I’m not upset,” he said, more like mumbled, but Iris ignored it.

“I just want you to think about it,” she said, “I know it would be hard – that it would be unpleasant at first and probably very difficult at times – but it’s all about making you comfortable around things again – and that requires you to be comfortable.  You wouldn’t be put in a situation where you’d panic.  You’d have total control over what you would or would not do.”

Barry nodded, and Iris gave him a small squeeze before sitting back up, and finally handing the remote back.

“But I do really think you should be seeing your therapist at least twice a week,” Iris said.

Barry closed his eyes, cringing almost like he was in pain.  “You know I hate going, Iris, I –”

“You hate going because when you were a kid they tried to convince you that your father was a murder and what you saw wasn’t real,” Iris said bluntly, “but that’s not the case anymore, Barry.  She’s helping you.  And you need help with this, Barry.”

Barry mumbled and slumped down a little bit, focusing his attention on the TV.

“Barry.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So will you go at least twice a week?”

He made a non-committal noise, hoping she would just drop it.

“Barry.”

“I don’t want to,” he said.

“You should anyway.  You say that now but I bet if you actually went it would be good for you.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to do it,” he mumbled.

“I bet if you go you’ll wind up being glad you did,” she said.

“I really don’t.”

“Would you do it for me?”  Iris was staring puppy eyes at him.

“Iris,” he said.

“Please.”

“No.”

“You wouldn’t even _try_ it?”

“No.”

“You’ve gotten so much better though.  It’s helping you.  I know it is.  I know we don’t talk a lot about it but if it really wasn’t doing anything then you would have said something about it by now.”

Barry didn’t say anything.  So maybe it helped.  So maybe he was starting to see it was a necessary evil.  That didn’t mean he wanted to go more.

“I really don’t want to, Iris.”

“I really think you should.”

“Can we not argue?  I don’t want to argue.”

“Sure – just say that you’ll go twice a week and then we don’t have to argue.”

“ _Iris._ ”

“I’ll even make you the appointment.”

“No.”

“I’ll call and everything.”

“No, Iris.”

“Don’t make me tell Len.”

Barry’s mouth dropped open.  “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ll do it,” she said, giving him a look that dared him to challenge her.

“Don’t,” he said immediately.

She started to smile.  “Then let me make you the appointment.”

“Iris –”

“I have his phone number,” she announced, pulling out her phone.  “I’ll call him up.”

“Why – how does everyone have his phone number?” he said, throwing up his hands.

“Caitlin,” Iris said.

Barry put his head in his hands.  When he looked up Iris had the characteristic challenging look on her face, one she had perfected while they were still in middle school.

“Barry Allen,” she said, holding the phone up.  “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Barry groaned.

 

 

 

“What do you mean you’re only going once a week?”

“I –”

“You should be going at least three times, probably every other day would be best –”

“No, they don’t recommend –”

“I mean, you really should be at an outpatient facility – I mean, I get it – that’s not going to work for you.  I wouldn’t like it either, but at least –”

“I’m not going anymore!”

There was silence on the line.  “Scarlet.”

“I hate going,” he said, huffing, glaring at Iris as she sat in the opposite armchair and watched.

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is.”

“You would have complained a lot more if you hated it.  You don’t like going.  I get it.  You still need to.”

“I’m already going though,” he said, his voice going up an octave as he got frustrated, “I go once a week.  That’s all I need.”

“You’re therapist has been recommending you for more sessions since the beginning,” Iris said dryly.  Barry shot her a glare. 

“You should be going three, four times a week.  Two is minimum.  Call her.  Schedule it.”

“No.”

“Scarlet –”

“ _No_.”

“Barry, you –”

“I am an adult,” Barry said, “I can make my own decisions.”

“Well you are making very poor ones right now,” Len snapped.  Barry took a sharp breath and he could hear Len take a long breath over the line, and then he continued in a much steadier tone.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to yell.  You just… you’re not thinking straight.  You’re not doing what’s best for you.  And that’s – I mean that’s OK.  That’s – you’ve been through so much, and the therapy – it’s something that obviously has a lot of negative memories for you, so I understand  - I mean it’s very understandable, but you need to realize that you might not be the best authority on situations like this.  For doing what’s best for you.  You need to trust your friends and family to help you with it – and they are making a very good point, Barry.”

Barry took in a long breath.  “I don’t want to,” he said quieter.

“I know, Barry,” Len said.

Barry was quiet for a long time.  He could hear Len breathing over the line, the only thing to let him know that he hadn’t hung up.  Finally Barry said, very softly, “I really should, shouldn’t I?”

He could practically hear the relief as Len let out a breath.  “Yeah, Scarlet.  I know you don’t want to, but it’s going to help you get better.  And then it’ll be worth it.”

“OK,” he said quietly.  “But on one condition.”

“Shoot,” Len said.

“You have to come with me.”

Len was quiet for a moment, and in that moment Barry couldn’t help thinking _oh shit._   That it was asking too much, that he had crossed the line of whatever it was that they had here, and he was asking too much.

“Sounds good.  I’ll see if I can clear my schedule.  What times do you go?”

And then Barry could breathe again.


	20. I Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So long wait, I know, but long chapter too. Maybe two more chapters? I'm almost there. Almost there! Warning on this one, little tiny bit of what could be construed as suicidal undertones. I'm probably being paranoid with that one, but just in case. Be safe. So, in this one we have Len and Barry arguing about therapy, Lisa (FINALLY MAKING AN APPEARANCE HELL YES) inserting herself into the relationship, and finally Barry making poor decisions as usual, with a big emotional scene with Iris near the end. In short, Lisa's awesome, and Barry fucks up and then has a revelation while talking with Iris. Enjoy :)

“Why don’t you just try it?” Len asked.

“No,” Barry said.

“Scarle-”

“No,” Barry said, and he stopped suddenly, so fast that Len almost walked into him there in the parking lot.  He spun around.  “I’m not doing it, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Len’s eyebrows went up, surprised at the sudden firmness in his voice.  “OK,” he said carefully.  “Can I ask why you’re so opposed to it?”

“Because I don’t want to do it,” Barry said, and then started walking again back towards Len’s motorcycle.

“I really think there’s more to it than that,” Len said, hurrying to catch up with him.

“I don’t want to,” Barry said, “that’s it.  It would be uncomfortable, and – and scary, and I don’t want to.”

“I don’t think it would be that scary,” Len said.

“It _would._ ”

“The whole idea of it is kind of to make it _no_ t scary.”

“It would be anxiety-provoking,” Barry said, loudly.

“But the idea of it is still to make things less anxiety-provoking, so having it be really anxiety-provoking would kind of defeat the purpose.”

“It would still make me nervous.”

“Well, yeah, a little.  But the idea is to get you to relax while being around anxiety-provoking situations.  It wouldn’t be like, go until you have a panic attack, and then we’ll stop.”

“I could still panic.”

“OK, yes, I mean, I guess there’s the possibility that it goes bad and you panic, but there’s that possibility in almost everything you do.  This wouldn’t be any worse than everyday life – better maybe, because you’re supposed to be relaxing, so if it gets too much then we would immediately take away whatever the anxiety-provoking stimulus was.”

“I don’t want to do it, Len.”

Len sighed.  They got to the bike and Barry was already putting the extra helmet on, obviously done with the conversation.

“It would make other things easier,” Len said, one last point, “patching up injuries, doing tests – they would get easier.”

Barry ignored him.  Len sighed.

He got onto the bike as well.  The therapy session had actually gone relatively well.  At least, Len thought so.  Well, until Barry’s therapist brought up desensitization therapy again.  Len drove to the West’s house.

 

 

 

Barry seemed to be getting better.  At least, he seemed to be getting over the depressive episode.  He was back to acting more like his normal self most of the time.  He also didn’t sustain any injuries in the next couple weeks, which helped.  Len went to Barry’s therapy sessions on Tuesdays.  Barry went alone on Friday’s.  When Len was there, it consisted of a lot of practicing coping mechanisms and of going over the week so far and talking over any problems Barry had encountered, working out what the best solution would be for him in the future, if it came up again.  He knew that they talked more about how Barry was feeling on Friday’s.  Barry never wanted to go, and he always entered looking uncomfortable, but he always left feeling better too.

He still lapsed into silence sometimes, still had panic attacks.  But it happened less often, and he was getting better about calling people and getting help when it did.  Len was usually the one he called.

It was becoming a problem.

Not a problem for him.  Len didn’t mind.  Might have even looked at his caller ID with a little bit of excitement every time he got a call now.  No, the problem was Lisa.

“So, when do I get to meet him?”

Len looked up from where he was reading a book, stretched out on the couch.

“Excuse me?”

“The guy you’re seeing,” Lisa said, putting her hands on her hips across from him.  “When do I get to meet him?”

Len looked back down at the book.  “I’m not seeing anyone,” he said flatly.

“Sure you’re not.  You’re just disappearing all the time for no reason.  And looking at your phone like a lost puppy.  For no reason.  Sure.”

“Leave it,” Len said, almost a growl, without looking up.

“I expect to be introduced,” Lisa said.

“ _Leave it_.”

“This better not become a repeat of Jack Vivero.”

“I’m sorry, is it the _leave_ , or the _it_ part that has you so confused?”

“Because you are not allowed to tell Mick before me.”

“ _Lisa_.”

“I want a dinner invitation within the next week.  I’m free on Saturday.”

“Lisa, I am not _seeing_ anyone.”

“I can do Thursday night too.”

“For the love of God, Lisa, I am not –”

“You get until Sunday.”

“Until Sund– or _what?_ ”

Lisa grinned at him.

 

 

 

 

 

Barry looked at the caller, ID, saw it was Len, frowned, and reached for it.  He was at work, Len knew he was at work, and Len didn’t normally call him anyway.  It was usually Barry calling Len.  Len only really called him if he had to cancel something, or if Barry was having a particularly bad day and Len wanted to check in with him.

Barry picked up the phone, already feeling a little disappointment, hoping it wasn’t that Len couldn’t go to therapy with him the next day.  He still felt a little bad for yelling at him the week before, but he was getting frustrated with Iris, and now Len and his therapist, pushing for the desensitization therapy.  And the frustration was made worse by the anxiety that the idea of the therapy caused.  He answered the phone.

“Hey.”

“Hello Barry Allen.”

Barry froze.  That was a female voice, a distinctly female voice, and he swore it sounded –

“This is Lisa.  I’m Len’s sister.  We’re having dinner this Wednesday and I’d love it if you could come.”

Barry nearly dropped the phone.  “Um,” he stuttered, “I, uh, I’m –”

“Great,” she said, “Do you have our address?  No – that’s fine.  I’ll text you it.  Wednesday night, how is 6:30?”

“Um,” Barry said, still reeling.

“We’ll set it for then,” Lisa said, “I’ll text you my phone number too, in case you have any problems finding the place.”

“Um, Lisa – I, uh, I’m not sure –”

“Fantastic,” she said, “Wednesday.  6:30.  I can’t wait to meet you.”

And she hung up.

 

 

 

“Lisa!”

Lisa looked up from where she was sitting sideways in the armchair.  She had a perfectly innocent look on her face.

“Yes?”

Len stormed in, throwing his hands up.  “You hacked my phone?”

“It’s not hacking when you just guess the password right,” Lisa said, humming.

“You broke into my phone and then started calling peop-”

“Just one person.”

“I – that does not make it OK!”

“He’s coming to dinner Wednesday.”

“He’s – what!”

“Wear something nice.”

“No, Lisa, you are in way over your head, you have no idea –”

“I’m making pasta.”

“Pa- Lisa this is not happening!”

“You should make steak.  Steak would be good.”

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?”

Lisa waved her hand.  “Like you’re saying anything relevant.”

“Relevant, _rele_ – this is the definition of relevant, this is as relevant as it gets – you are _not_ hosting dinner and you are _not_ inviting people you found on my _phone_ to any dinners and you are _definitely not_ inserting yourself into a relationship that, mind you, does not even _exist!_ ”

“He’s coming at 6:30.” 

Len put his head in his hands.

 

 

 

 

Len called Barry’s cell, standing outside the safe house after informing Lisa that they were not doing this, listening to the phone ring.  After calling twice he gave up and sent a text and went back inside.

Two hours later he got a call from Caitlin.  He saw the caller ID and his heart sank.  It was never good when Caitlin called him.

“Hello?” he said.

“Len, hi, it’s – have you um – is Barry with you?”

Len paused.  “No… why?”

“Oh, he – well, there was a burglary, and it shouldn’t have been a problem – very routine, but his vitals spiked, and then right after that we lost contact with him.  We’re not sure where he went, and we think he’s injured, and he’s not answering his phone.  So if he calls you, or you see him, if you could just –”

“Where was the burglary?” Len asked, already going to his motorcycle.  “I’ll go look for him.”

There was a beat of silence, and he thought for a moment Caitlin would tell him not to, but then he just heard a breath of relief.  “It’s on the west side of town.  Near the mall.  He’s not at home, and Iris hasn’t seen him either.”

“OK,” Len said, “I’m going.  I’ll call you if I find him.”  He hung up, a cold, dark strand of fear wrapping around his throat the whole time.

 

 

 

 

Barry threw up in the alleyway.  Black dots spun in front of his eyes as he stumbled.  There were red splashes of blood on the ground, and he coughed up some more of it.  He stumbled to the side, and then kept going, his hand on the wall of a building next to him.  He was in regular clothes, the Flash suit abandoned.  Blood had soaked through the shirt, but he was pretty sure it had clotted over and stopped bleeding by now.  Of course, he had thought that a half hour ago too.

Barry’s head spun.  Was it a half hour ago?  He looked at his watch, but the numbers blurred together, and he found he couldn’t remember what time it had happened anyway.

He needed help.  He knew he needed help.  He didn’t know why he was in the alley anymore.  But he didn’t want to go to Star Labs, and he couldn’t go home.  Why couldn’t he go home?  He couldn’t remember.  But he couldn’t.  The thought was like a concrete slab in his mind.  Couldn’t go home.  Needed help.  Don’t go to Star Labs.

Caitlin would cut him open there.  No, that wasn’t right.  His head was spinning and aching and pounding now.  He pressed a hand to his forehead, leaning against the wall.  No, no, Caitlin wouldn’t cut him open.  Why… why couldn’t he go to Star Labs?  He hurt.  He went to Star Labs when he hurt.  And he was hurting bad.

  1.   That’s why.  He remembered suddenly, like a wave coming over him, and he stumbled backwards from the wall.  He didn’t want stitches.  It would heal on its own.  He had to wait for it to heal on its own and then he could go back home.  He wanted to go home.



His stomach hurt.  His stomach hurt so badly.  His back hit the wall and this time he slid down it, holding his stomach with one hand, his head with the other.  Everything was spinning.  Black dots covered his vision, almost blocking it all out.  He started to panic.  He needed to be able to see.  He didn’t want to go back there.  He had to see.

It came back a little bit though, and relief swam through his body.  He wasn’t going back.  He wasn’t on the table.  He was fine.  He had to wait.  Stitches.  No stitches.  Needles.  He just had to wait. 

Were they coming for him?  He had to hide.  They wouldn’t find him here.  They wouldn’t.  Was it here they found him the first time?  It was an alleyway.  It was an alleyway and a sharp sting on his neck and then dizziness.  He was dizzy now.  Were they back?  Were they coming back?  He curled into a ball.  His stomach hurt.  His stomach hurt so much.  Would they hurt him more while his stomach was already cut open?  They’d stick IV’s in him at least.  Maybe they’d poke around at his insides, like that one time – maybe they’d cut him open more, pull things out of him.  With a sudden lurch he was dry heaving again.

Barry shivered.  He was so cold.  He wanted to go home.  He wanted Iris.  He couldn’t go home.  He wanted a blanket – wanted warm blankets and water – wanted water so bad.  Len – Len would get him water.  But Len was them too – Len would take him there – would get stitches in him.  He didn’t want stitches.  He would wait until it healed.  It would heal.  It was just a cut.  It wasn’t even that deep.

He hadn’t thought it was anyway.  Barry closed his eyes.  It hadn’t hurt that much then.  He’d even run with it.  He couldn’t run now.  Why did it hurt so much?  It shouldn’t hurt that much.  His hand felt sticky with the blood.  It had stopped bleeding before.  Why was it bleeding now?

He looked down and pulled up his shirt, to see the bandage he’d put on it underneath.  The blood was dark around it.  Looked almost black.  There was something else too.  Yellow-white pus.  Like his infected leg.  But this was too fast.  It was too fast and even Barry had washed it – he’d washed the cut.  Not poured hydrogen peroxide on it like Len or Caitlin would, but he had cleaned it.  Wasn’t infected.  Was fine.

It just hurt.  He groaned, shifting, stretching out his legs.  He was so cold, and he was tired.  He leaned his head against the wall.  He wanted to sleep. 

He’d gone home and washed it.  He’d gotten clothes.  Even something to eat.  He had felt fine.

He didn’t now.  Now everything hurt.

His head was pounding.  Why was his head pounding?  What was going on?  Why did it hurt so much?  He just wanted it to stop.  He wanted it to stop and he wanted someone with him – didn’t want to be alone in the cold alleyway at night with his head pounding and his stomach a burning fire against his skin.

“Jesus.”

Barry startled, and opened his eyes.  Suddenly there were blue ones staring back at him.

“Scarlet?”

Barry closed his eyes.  No.  He had to get away.  It wasn’t long enough.  It wasn’t healed yet.  They’d poke at him and he didn’t want poking.  He had to get away but he couldn’t move.

“Scarlet, where are you hurt?”

Where was he hurt?  He didn’t remember.  Where did the pain come from?  Was it the pounding in his skull?  No – something else.  The cut.  He was cut.  His stomach.  Except now it was more his whole abdomen, his chest, starting to seep into his leg on that side as well.  He tried to move away.

“Fucking hell, Barry.”  There were hands on him.  Barry pulled away, whining, and then there was a hand on his hip, holding him down. 

The feeling of it caused a burst of dread to go through him and Barry cried out, pulled away, tried to get away, but the pressure increased and then he was hyperventilating, trying to grab the hand and make it move.  He didn’t want to be held down.  He didn’t like it.  He didn’t.

“I need to look at your side, Barry.”

  1.   Barry grabbed at the hand on him, pulled.  His fingers wouldn’t even clench properly.



“Yeah, I found him.  I’m right outside Fifth street.  He’s bleeding from his stomach, and he’s disoriented.  I don’t think it’s blood loss – there’s not that much of it.”

There were hands on his stomach and Barry flinched away.  It hurt.  They were hurting him.  He started breathing harder, tears coming to his eyes.  No – no, not again.  No, he just wanted a break.  They had to stop, please.  Not again, not now, just a little longer – just a little longer break, please.

“Stop,” he said, brokenly, the word coming out almost slurred.

“I need to look at your side, Scarlet, you’re hurt.”

Barry whimpered.  It hurt, it hurt.  He wanted to go home.  Why were they doing this to him?

“Stop, please,” he said, “stop.”

“OK, I’ll stop.  I’m stopping.”

Barry felt a rush of relief.  Stop.  They never stopped.  Oh God, he was tired.  His eyes were slipping shut.

“Scarlet – hey, Scarlet.  You have to tell me what happened though.  I’m only stopping if you tell me what happened.”

Barry whined.  What happened?  “I dunno,” he said.  His eyes were shut.  His head was spinning.

“Hey, stay with me, Barry.  You have to stay awake.”

“Tired.”

“I know, stay awake with me.  What happened?  How did you get hurt?”

“Knife,” Barry mumbled, “knife.  Didn’t hurt much.  Was gonna be fine.”

“You got stabbed?”

“Mmhm.”

“That was it?  Just the cut?”

“Mmhm.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Stay awake, Scarlet.”

“’m tired.”

“I know, but you have to stay awake.”

“Donwanna.”

“Barry.”

“’m awake.”

Barry felt a pressure on his side, and he tensed suddenly, flinching away.  “Ah!” he cried out, pushing backwards, but he was up against the wall.  He opened his eyes and squinted.  “Len?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Scarlet.”

“Let go.”

“I can’t, Scarlet, I’m trying to stop the bleeding.”

Barry swatted at his hand, let out a frustrated cry when that didn’t do anything.  “Not bleeding.  ‘s not deep.  Hurts.”  He whimpered again, squirming away.

“I know it hurts.  You should have come in right away.  Then it wouldn’t hurt so much now.”

“No – you – you’d do stitches.”

“Stitches?”

“No stitches.”

“Barry.”

“No,” Barry mumbled.  “You and them – stitches.  Pokeing. Hurts.  Donwannit to hurt.  ‘s not bad.  ‘as gonna heal fine on ‘s own.”

“And that turned out so well,” Len said.

“Mm, no stitches,” Barry slurred.  “No poking.  No pokes.”

“I think poking would have been preferable to this mess you’ve gotten yourself in,” Len said.

“No,” Barry said, “no poking.”  He shuddered, swatting at his hand again.  “Hurts.  Stop.”

“I have to hold it, Barry.”

“Hurts.”

“I know.  I’m sorry.  Just hang in there.”

Barry shivered.  “Cold.”

Barry heard a sigh, his eyes closed again, and then a warm hand on his forehead. 

“You’re burning up,” Len mumbled, more to himself than anything.

“No – cold,” Barry said.  He leaned into the touch, whined when Len moved his hand away.  “Please,” Barry said, moving closer to him.

“What?” Len asked.

“Please,” Barry said, “cold.  Hold  me?”

Len eyes widened a little bit.  Barry moved closer to him, trying to dislodge his hand from his stomach while moving to lean in against his side.

“No stitches,” Barry mumbled.  “’ll be fine.  Just stay.  I’ll be fine.  ‘ll heal on ‘s own.  Hurts.   Just hurts.  Wanna cuddle.  Wanna go home.”  He mumbled the last bit against Len’s jacket as Len let him move closer, wrapping an arm around him while using his other to keep applying pressure to Barry’s side.

“Scarlet, stay awake,” Len said.

“’m awake.”

“Good.  Keep talking to me.”

“Really hurts, ‘en”

“You should have come right in.  It wouldn’t hurt this bad if you came right in.”

“No – poking.  Don’t wanna poke… don’t wanna ge’ poked.”

“Stay awake, Scarlet.”

“’m tired.”

“I know, Barry.  Stay awake.”

“Len?”

Len sighed.  “Yeah?”

“Don let them poke me.”

“You need to get looked at,” Len said.

“But don let them do the needles.  Don let them hurt me.”

Len let out a long breath.  “They’re gonna help, Scarlet.  Promise.”

“You’re a liar,” Barry mumbled.

“I’m not lying this time,” Len said, “I don’t lie to you.”

“Yeah you do.”

“No.  I don’t lie to Barry Allen.  I only lie to the Flash.”

Barry huffed.  “Same thing.”

Len smiled a little.  “No, Scarlet.  It’s really not.”

Barry’s face contracted, and he let out a whimper suddenly, one hand twining into Len’s jacket.

“Len,” Barry whimpered, eyes shut, grabbing at him. “Hurts.”

“It’s gonna be OK,” Len said, “Caitlin’s going to make it better.”

Barry let out a groan.  “She’s gonna poke.  With the needles.  No.”

“She’s going to make it better,” Len said firmly.  “She’s gonna make it so that you’re all OK, Barry.”

“But it’s gonna hurt.”

“But it already hurts, right?”

Barry let out a little sniff.  “Yeah.”

“So if she has to make it hurt a little bit, but afterwards it won’t hurt at all, isn’t that better?”

“No.”

“Scarlet.”

“It’ll heal without poking.”

“I don’t think this one will, Scarlet.”

Barry whined some more.  “Don wanna.”

“We have to do things we don’t like sometimes,” Len said, “it’s hard, but we get through it.”

Barry mumbled something against him.  Len was rubbing circles on his back with one hand, pressing against his stomach with the other.  Barry was leaning against him.

“If I have to do the poking,” Barry said, “you have to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” Len said.

“You have to hold me.”

“I’ll do whatever you want, Barry.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

And Barry smiled – a dopey, closed-eye smile, like he was drunk.  “What if I want you t’ kiss me?”

Len’s throat seized up.  He didn’t have a chance to respond.

“Would you kiss me?”  The lack of answer he was getting didn’t seem to deter Barry.  He kept going.  “Would you kiss me t’ make it better?  You feel nice.”  Barry pressed his forehead into Len’s chest.  “Warm.”  He pressed a little closer.  “Safe.  You have to stay.  You’re safe.  You’ll stay right?”

“I’ll stay, Scarlet.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“You’ll help it not hurt?” Barry asked, “it hurts a lot.  It really hurts.  Wanna go home.”

And like that they were back to the same rambling, half coherent conversation as before, with Len very confused, and very shocked, until fifteen minutes later, Cisco and Caitlin arrived with the van.

 

 

 

 The burglar was a metahuman, and he secreted poison.  Like a snake.  And he apparently put it on his knives.  Fucking fantastic.

Barry was out of it for most of the time at Star Labs.  That didn’t mean he didn’t ramble and whimper and cry when Caitlin put him on an IV to get the toxin out of his system.  The knife wound really wasn’t that bad of a cut.  It did need stitches, but Len could see why Barry thought he could get away with having it heal on its own.  Not that it wasn’t still a completely idiotic and irresponsible thing to do, but it wasn’t a gaping wound.

Barry got a little delirious for a while, before Caitlin started flushing the toxin out of his system.  He went between mumbling incoherently to asking where different people were (Iris, Len, his mom, Caitlin, Joe, etc) to thinking he was back on the table.  That was the worst.  It had Len cringing, trying to console him, which ultimately he gave up on as Barry didn’t seem to take in anything anyone was saying.  As the toxin got washed out he eventually came around, but it was slow.  Caitlin got the stitches done while he was still out of it, and then it was just a matter of keeping the wound clean as it healed and waiting for Barry to recover from the poison.

He was mostly cognizant when Iris burst in, a half hour later, because she had been searching across town.  Luckily for Barry, Joe was already there, so he hadn’t had to bear the full brunt of his anger, being very out of it when he arrived.

Not so with Iris.

“Where the hell were you?”

Barry winced.  He took a sip of the glass of water he was given, trying to sit up a bit more.  “I’m not sure, actually,” Barry said.

“You –” Iris stopped in front of him.  “What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad?” Barry said, cringing already.

“You didn’t think it was that bad?  You were _stabbed!_ ”

“It was a little stab,” Barry said.

“You got stabbed, disappeared, and then wouldn’t answer your phone.  Did you think for one second how that might look?” Iris yelled.  “Did you think for one second what we might think?  Of how worried we’d be?  I just drove to every restaurant we’ve ever been at looking for yo-”

“I’m sorry,” Barry said, his face pleading, and lined with guilt now.  “I didn’t – I didn’t think.  I… I got scared.  I’m sorry.”

Iris was calming down a little bit now, a combination of finally venting her frustrations, the guilty look on Barry’s face, and the confirmed knowledge that he was safe and healing.  She let out a long breath and crossed her arms in front of her.

“You can’t do that,” Iris said.  “ _You can’t do that_.”  Barry stared at her with wide eyes.  She kept going in the same hard tone, leaving no room for discussion.  “You _can’t_ run away when you’re hurt.  You _can’t_ disappear after a fight.  You _have_ to come back and you _have_ to get looked at.  No matter how small you think the injury is or how scared you are.  You _have_ to get it looked at.”

Barry looked down, fidgeting.  “I really thought it wasn’t a big deal.  I washed it, and put a bandage o-”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Iris snapped, and it was clear she was losing patience, was still rattled from the fear of having him gone.  She sunk down suddenly into the chair next to him, grabbing his hand.  “You _have to get it looked at._ ”

“But I –”

“No,” she said, squeezing down on his hand.  “You have to get checked out.  You have to answer our calls.  You have to go in and you have to let Caitlin look and you have to be brave and get it done even when you’re scared or its painful or you think it’s all bullshit.  You have to go anyway, or you can’t do this job.  You can’t run around as the Flash if you won’t take care of yourself.”

Barry’s mouth twisted.  He looked down again.  “I didn’t want stitches,” he mumbled.

“Then you can’t be the Flash.”

“Iris –”

“No,” Iris said, “I am not going to just sit by and wait until the next time you get hurt and run away and leave the rest of us running around the whole goddamned town looking for you.  What if Len hadn’t found you, Barry?  You’d be dead.  Dead, Barry.  It’s a fucking _coincidence_ that you are even alive right now.  You can’t do this to me, Barry.  You can’t do this to us.  It’s bad enough when you go out and race around fighting people – you can’t refuse to take care of yourself afterwards too.  I can’t lose you, Barry.  I can’t sit and watch and just wait until the next time –”

She broke off, suddenly throwing her face down into her hands, crying.

“Iris,” Barry said, his voice weak.  He tried to reach over to her, but it was too far.  His face contracted painfully.  “Iris.”  She didn’t look up.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “Iris, I’m… I’m so sorry.  I didn’t… I’m sorry, I just got scared, and I…I…”

And Iris looked up, tear tracks down her face.  “Yeah, well, I got scared too, Barry,” she said, and Barry felt like dirt.  She took in a long breath, wiped her face off, and tried to compose herself again.  Caitlin had moved over, frowning and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, the words feeling so inadequate on his tongue, like nothing.  “I’m so sorry,” he said, continued, watching as she looked at him with that mix of fear and relief and concern and anger and love.  “I didn’t mean to scare you guys.  I didn’t – I didn’t think, I’m sorry.  I’ll come back.  I’ll come back from now on.  I didn’t think it was that bad,” he said desperately now, trying to explain.  “I really didn’t.  I would have come back if I’d known.  I will from now on, I promise.  I thought it was just a little cut.  I – I just didn’t want stitches – I got – I let it – I was scared, Iris, I got scared and I didn’t think and I promise I won’t do it again, I’ll come in.”

She shook her head, and took his hand again, and when she looked up she was smiling a little bit at him, a small, sad little smile, but it was a hundred times better than the look of pain on her face just a few minutes before.

“I know you get scared,” she said, taking a deep breath.  “I know… I’m not – I’m not trying to say that it’s your fault, or that you’re weak for that, Barry.  I just – you have to come in anyway.  You have to trust us, and you have to not think about it long enough to get here, and let people help you.”

“OK,” Barry said, and the words made his stomach sink but the tear stains on Iris’s face made it sink more and he had the overwhelming sense that he really screwed up this time.

“Promise me,” she said.

“I promise.”

“You’ll come in, you’ll come back to Star Labs, you’ll get yourself here, no matter what.  No matter how scared you are.  No matter if you’re having a complete panic attack.  You don’t run away.  If you can’t move, you call someone.  We’ll help you.  I promise, Barry, I swear, we’ll help you, we’ll figure it out, we won’t let you – we won’t let you…”  But she stopped suddenly, her eyes going down, searching for a word.

But that was it, wasn’t it.  Won’t let you what?  Barry’s head was spinning.  What was it that he was so afraid of happening anyway?  Won’t let him panic?  Won’t let him get hurt?  Won’t let him die?  He suddenly felt dizzy.

What was he afraid of?  Why wouldn’t he come in?  What was behind that fear, what was behind it.  He had panic attacks anyway, it couldn’t be panic, it couldn’t just be afraid of panicking, of getting nervous, and it wasn’t pain, it wasn’t the pain of it he was really afraid of – what was it?

Won’t let him what?  Won’t let him what?  Won’t let him drown.  Won’t let him fall.  Won’t let him be alone.  Won’t let him hurt.  Won’t let him go back there – won’t let him go back to that place of silent black nothing pain.  Won’t let him fall back to the place where he wishes he was dead, anything to make it stop, anything to make it all stop, to give it an _end_.

“I promise,” Barry was saying, and his mouth was going, and he was repeating the words.  “I promise, I promise, I promise.  I’m sorry.  I promise.”

He was crying.  She was too.  She was nodding at him, chin jerking up and down and then his was too and he didn’t know when that started just that he didn’t want to see that look on her face ever again and he didn’t want to die either and he had almost – had come very close to it. 

It came as a jolt.  He did not want to die.  He did not want to die, did not want an _end_ , did not want it to all stop, anything – he wanted to be here and he wanted to live and he wanted to be with Iris and Caitlin and Cisco and Joe and – and with Len.  He wanted to live and he wanted to live in a way that fear didn’t rule him, didn’t force his decisions.  He wanted to live in a way that didn’t put Iris here, crying, that didn’t have Len finding him in an alleyway, bleeding, alone.  He didn’t want to die and he had almost died and he wanted to be here more than he wanted to not be afraid.  More than he wanted to avoid the medical rooms of Star Labs.  He wanted to be there in the lives of all of his friends and family and to be in their lives and he wanted to do it for himself too, wanted to do it because damn it they wouldn’t take this from him too.

“I promise,” he said.  “I promise.”


	21. Do We Need to Ice Someone?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry has a bad day and Lisa makes a reappearance.

              Cisco set up a program on his phone.  He presses the app and it immediately calls Len.  If Len doesn't pick up it then proceeds to call Iris.  And on from there to Joe, Caitlin, Cisco, and Eddie.  The call shows up as an emergency call from Barry on their phones, and it instantly gives them Barry’s location.  In addition, when Barry hits the app, it sends the same emergency signal immediately to Star Labs and to Caitlin’s cell phone, with Barry’s location as well.  In addition to an app on Barry’s phone, Cisco wired up a button on the Flash suit to do the same thing.

              “So all I have to do is hit the app?” Barry asked.

             “Yep,” Cisco said, smiling widely.  “You hit the app and we know where you are and you’re connected to someone you can talk to until we show up.”

              Barry nodded, fiddled with his phone for a few moments.  He had a frown stuck on his face and he wasn’t sure what to think of it really.  On one hand, he understood why they were doing it.  It would give him a very easy way to contact them if he was hurt and needed help.  It would also ensure that he keep in better touch with Star Labs about his injuries.

             “Alright, thanks,” Barry said, taking his phone back from Cisco.  Cisco gave him a smile and Barry tried to summon one back.  He left shortly afterwards.

              He had been struggling more since the poisoned cut.  He had been out of it for most of the time Caitlin worked, but there had been a little incident getting the stitches out.  There was a part that hadn’t healed right, that Caitlin suspected was damage from the poison.  She had to take a small sample of the area, which, although a little painful and not fun, was not the worst thing in the world.  The problem was that Barry had so thoroughly worked himself up thinking about all the possibilities of procedures he might have to undergo that by the time Caitlin came back with the results he was already in the middle of a panic attack.

             Turned out he just needed a salve.  Caitlin mixed it up and then wrapped a bandage around it.  She said it be healed the next day.

             Barry walked out of Star Labs.  There was a sinking feeling in his gut, a painful, aching dread interlaced with an endless string of anxiety.  It felt like there was something in his chest that was wrapped up too tightly, squeezed in all the wrong places until it formed a sharp, painful ache that had a constant presence.  He thought about walking right back into Star Labs.  By now he could recognize when he was starting to slip.

             He kept walking though, and after a few minutes took his phone back out.  He sent a text to Len.  His phone vibrated a couple minutes later.

_Sure, I’ll meet you there._

             When Barry reached the West house, Len was standing on the front porch waiting for him.  He frowned when he saw him.

             “What’s going on?” Len asked.

              Barry shrugged.  “Don’t feel good,” he said, pulling out his key and entering the house.  Len followed him.

            “What’s wrong?”

            Barry shrugged.  “I really just don’t feel good,” he mumbled.

            “That’s not really an answer, Scarlet,” Len said.

            Barry went inside, threw his bag down on the couch, and then paused.  He stood in the same spot for a second, clenching and unclenching his hands.  Len started to frown.

            “Barry?”

            Barry felt the pressure build up inside him.  His head was spinning again, his thoughts starting to race in a way that only happened after he was struck by lightening, everything speeding up, getting jumbled.  It wasn’t a panic attack, but it was something close, everything moving too fast, his breathing a little too high, his head feeling like it was going to explode.  He was feeling unstable and shaky in the worst kind of way, like everything was crumbling apart and he didn’t have anything to grab onto.

            Barry took a deep breath.  The pressure was building, an awful tension.  He fought with it for a moment, and then he was walking into the kitchen, hands moving frantic, almost running.

            “Barry?”

            Len watched as Barry started pulling out glasses and mugs from the cabinets, stacking them up on the counter, before he turned on the faucet.  Len let out a sigh, realization hitting.

            “Scarlet,” he said, a sigh.

            “Don’t,” Barry said, starting to fill them up, feeling a tentative calm settle over his skin as he filled the glasses with water.  His breathing started to even out, and a bit of the shaky feeling running through him steadied.

            “Barry,” Len said, “you know this is a bad idea.”

            “I don’t care,” he said, taking in a deep breath.

            “Scarlet,” Len said, coming up behind him.

            “I need to,” Barry mumbled.

            Len’s mouth tightened.  He let out a sigh, paused, and then moved forward again.  Carefully, he came up behind Barry, and reached around in front of him, where he was filling up a mug.  Len let his hand fall onto Barry’s wrist, and Barry froze.  Len moved slightly to the side, and placed his other hand on Barry’s elbow.  Slowly, gently, he slid his hand down from his wrist to cover Barry’s hand, and then onto the glass.  He paused, and then carefully took the glass from his hands, taking it, leaving Barry’s fingers frozen there, still extended like he was holding something, and placing the glass on the counter to his side.

            Barry started shaking a little, and Len moved his hands, putting one against his back, the other on his elbow again, and he led him over onto the couch.  They both sat down, and Len smoothed his hand over Barry’s back.

            “Just relax,” he said softly, “everything’s OK.”

            Barry had his head down, shaking it slowly.  “I can’t stop thinking,” he said  softly.

            Len sighed.  “You’re gonna be OK,” he said, “do you want one of those glasses of water, now?”

            Barry nodded slowly.  Len gave his shoulder another pat, and then got up and went into the kitchen.  He grabbed two of the glasses, because he knew Barry would want another, and came back.  He handed one over and then set the second on the coffee table.  Barry took a few gulps, and then went to sipping.

            “What happened?” Len asked.

            Barry shook his head.  “I… the cut, it… there was a problem.  It’s fine now… it… I don’t wanna talk about it,” Barry mumbled.

            “Alright,” Len said.  He watched as Barry took another large gulp of water.  He had his head down, wouldn’t meet his eyes.

            “Could we… um… just - could you put on a movie?” Barry asked, finally looking up.

            “Yeah,” Len said, “sure.  What do you want to watch?”

            Barry shrugged, and so Len started looking through their collection until he tossed out a name that Barry gave an affirmative to.  He sat back down on the couch, grabbing a blanket when he went, because Barry was shivering now.

            They were halfway through the movie and Barry didn’t look any better.  He had a miserable expression covering his face.

            “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” he asked.

            Barry nodded.  “I’m sure.”

            Len sighed.  “Well this doesn’t seem to be helping much, Scarlet.”

            Barry’s frown only deepened.  His shoulders slumped.  His head went down so he wasn’t looking at him anymore.

            “Can I go fill the cups now?”

            His voice was so soft and Len winced at the sound.

            “I’m not going to stop you,” Len said, “I don’t think you should.  You know it’s not a good habit to get into.”

            Barry nodded, looked like he thought about it for another minute, and then slumped back down, a little closer to Len this time.

            “Don’t feel anxious anymore anyway,” he mumbled.

            “What do you want, Barry?” Len asked.

            Barry shrugged.  “I want to stop feeling like this.”

            “How can we get you to do that?” Len asked.

            “I don’t know.”

            “Do you want me to call Iris?” Len asked.  Barry shook his head.  “Do you want to talk to your therapist?”  He shook his head again, but it wasn’t accompanied by the usual distasteful grimace, so Len figured he was being honest about it.  Len sighed.  “Alright, well tell me what’s wrong.”

            “I don’t feel good.”

            “What doesn’t feel good?”

            “I don’t know… I just… I feel shaky.  And… and bad.”

            “Describe bad.”

            “Like… I dunno… like… painful.  And - and bad.  Awful.  Like… like I just want to shut off my brain and not think - not - not have to do anything at all.”

            “So… you feel depressed again?  Is it as bad as last time?”

            Barry blinked.  “I - no… no not… I don’t know it feels… I guess that’s what it is.  But not - it’s not quite as bad.”

            “OK,” Len said, “do you want to go sleep for a little bit?  Last time it got bad you took a few days off to relax, right?  And then it got better?  So maybe you’re just overstressed.”

            “Yeah,” Barry said, “I guess.  But I don’t - I don’t want to go to bed.”

            “Alright, well we can stay here,” Len said, “you just don’t seem to be feeling much better.”

            Barry opened his mouth, but just then there was a pounding on the door.  Barry and Len both looked over towards it.

            “Hmm,” Barry said, and got up slowly.  He walked over to the door, opened it up, and froze.

            “Barry Allen, so good to finally meet you!”

            Len was up in a second, mouth open, and Barry didn’t even have time to react before Len was there with his hands on Barry’s shoulders, moving him behind him.

            “Lisa, what the hell are you doing here?” Len said.  He looked back at Barry, who just looked shocked, and then nudged him back in the direction of the couch.  “Just – I’ll take care of her – go sit back down.”  He sent a glare at Lisa and then looked back long enough to see Barry floundering.

            “Um, hi,” Barry said, but Len was already pushing Lisa back out the door.

            “I’ll be right back,” he said again, and then they were both outside and he closed the door before Lisa could say anything else.

            “Lenny,” she said, “that wasn’t very polite.”

            “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Len practically hissed.

            “I think I’m meeting your boyfriend.  We were supposed to have dinner a half hour ago, but since you wouldn’t pick up your phone and no one showed up, not to say I’m surprised, I came looking.”

            “Lisa, you cannot just show up here,” Len said, “this is his house.”

            “I know,” she said, “that’s why I came here.”

            “Lisa,” Len said, “you _cannot_ be here.”

            She gave him a look.

            “His foster father’s a badge,” he put in.

            She raised an eyebrow.  “You’re dating a badge?  Well, that’s new.”

            He shook his head.  “He’s a CSI, he just works with them, but –”

            “Does he know?”

            “About me?  Yeah.”

            Her eyes widened.  “So this is serious then.”

            “No,” he said, crossing his arms emphatically, “we’re not even together.”

            She raised an eyebrow.

            “We are not,” Len said, “and it’s none of your business anyway.  You need to leave, Lisa, it’s –”

            “I won’t stay long, you two can still do whatever you were doing, I just –”

            “It’s not like that,” Len said, “and no, you need to leave.”

            She crossed her arms.  “I’m not going until I have at least had a conversation with him, Lenny, I –”

            “Lisa, this is not a good time.”

            She rolled her eyes.  “It’s never a good time, just let me –”

            Len sighed.  He closed his eyes for a second and his voice dropped lower.  “No, Lisa, he’s not – he’s upset, you need to go.”

            She frowned.  “What do you mean he’s upset?”

            “He’s just –” Len hesitated, “he had to go through some stuff and he’s not doing very well right now, we were just watching a movie.”

            She did not look impressed.  “Way to be as vague as possible, Lenny.”

            He let out a sigh, and then gritted his teeth.  “He went through a very traumatic experience a while ago and it’s a repercussion of it and I don’t really think he’d want me talking about it to people he doesn’t even know.”

            “Hmm,” she said, but the hard look on her face had dropped away.  She looked behind him, trying to peer through a window, before looking back. “At least let me introduce myself.”

            “Lisa, you need to go,” Len said.

            “Is he crying?” Lisa asked.

            Len blinked at her.  “No, why –”

            “Then I can at least say hello,” she said.

            “No, Lisa, you are not doing this,” Len said, blocking the doorway.

            “It’ll be a distraction,” Lisa said, “sounds like he could use one.  I’ll be nice, Len, I just want to meet him.”

            “ _No_ , Lisa.”

            “Unless you give me a better reason than that he is upset to not go in there, then I am not leaving until I at least have five minutes with the guy.”

            “He’s not doing well,” Len said, gritting his teeth again, fists clenched.  He took in a deep breath, and then looked at her again, his tone serious.  “He has some serious PTSD, Lisa, and he’s having a bad day with it.”

            Her expression changed, but her arms stayed crossed.  “Is he alright?  Do we need to ice someone?”

            Len almost laughed.  “He’ll be fine.  I just really don’t think he’s up to seeing people right now.”

            “Hmm,” she said, but just as Len started to relax, thinking that she’d finally drop it, she moved right around him, faster than he could stop her, and she was inside.

            “Lisa!” Len said, going after her, but she was already across the room, one hand extended.

            “So, I’m Lisa, Len’s sister –”

            “Who is leaving –”  Len said, quickly going over.

            But Barry already had his hand in hers, shaking it.  “I’m Barry,” he said, looking over at Len, confused.

            “Len said you weren’t having a great day, so I’ll leave in just a minute, but I just wanted to meet you in person.”

            “Ah, yeah, it’s nice to meet you,” Barry said, still looking mostly confused, glancing between the two.

            “So, Barry, Len tells me you’re a CSI?”

            “Yeah,” Barry said, his face brightening a fraction of a bit.

            “That’s interesting, how did you get into that?”

            “Ah, well, I just really like all the science of it,” Barry said, “and I like getting to help people, solve things.”

            The conversation continued for a few minutes, Lisa asking easy, unobtrusive questions, to Len’s relief.  She smiled the whole time, and slowly elicited one from Barry as well.  True to her word, she only stayed for five or ten minutes, and then was off, with a promise from Barry that they would reschedule that dinner for some night when he wasn’t busy.

             After she left Barry turned back to Len.  “That was nice,” he said.

             Len raised an eyebrow.  “Nice?”

             “Yeah,” Barry said, “your sister seems really nice.  Well, when she’s not, you know, stealing things and stuff.”

              Len laughed.  “I’m sorry about that, I really tried to get her to just leave.”

              Barry shook his head.  “No, it was nice… I mean, unless… are you OK with us having that dinner later?”  Barry suddenly looked nervous and Len blinked.  “I mean, I kind of agreed to go, but I didn’t – I can cancel, or make something up if you…”

              “No,” Len said, “no that – I don’t care, Scarlet, I just thought – I didn’t think you’d want to talk to her right now.”

              “Oh,” Barry said.

              Len shook his head.  “Yeah, no, dinner sounds fine.  I just didn’t think you’d want to do that.”

              “Oh,” Barry said again, “No, I… I would.  Like to go.  As long as that’s OK with you.”

              “That’s fine with me,” Len said.

              “OK,” Barry said, looking a little relieved, and more settled now.  “Then I’ll find a time to go.”

              “Alright,” Len said, and when he left an hour later, he found himself wondering how he somehow wound up making plans to have a family dinner with the Flash.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy, so I've been really slow at updating (sorry!) but I have more on the way already, just figured I'd get this up now. (Also like yesterdays episode YEEEESSSSSSSS!!!) but anyway, a couple more chapters, already started on part three of this series, please keep letting me know what you think of this, I really appreciate any and all comments and suggestions! Thanks for reading :)


	22. That's What Makes You Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry gets hurt and Len helps.

When Len saw the message on his phone, his stomach sank, and he was gathering his stuff even as he hit answer.

“Hey Scarlet, what’s happened?”

He could hear heavy breathing on the other line.  “I – ah – I hurt m– it’s my ankle.”

“OK,” Len said.  He looked down, where his phone was giving him a location.  “Are Cisco and Caitlin coming to get you?”

“I – think – I think so,” he said, “but – oww, fuck.”

“OK,” Len said, checking the address again.  “I’m going to meet you at Star Labs, OK?  By the time I’d get to where you are you’d already be gone.  Is anything hurt besides your ankle?”

“Mm, some cuts,” he said, “bruises – it’s – I think it’s broken.”

“We’ll get you fixed up,” Len said, “are you somewhere safe?  Somewhere you can stay until they reach you?”

“Ah,” there was a pause and Len heard Barry let out a groan, “I’m – I’m tryi- fuck, I’m trying to now.”

“Don’t put pressure on it,” Len said.

“I have to,” Barry ground out, “I’m just – I’m behind a building – back parking lot.  I’m just – ow – there – I’m behind a wall, I think – I think I’ll be fine here.”

“OK,” Len said, “how does the ankle look?”

“Ahh, it’s been better,” Barry said, pain lacing his voice.  “It’s – I – I think it’s a clean break.  There’s nothing that looks wrong – out of place.  It just hurts a lot.  Could be sprained, I guess, but it feels worse than that.”

“OK, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Len said.

“I –” Barry’s voice faltered.  “I – I don’t think it needs to be set.”

“Cait will look at it,” Len said.

“Do you think –” Len could hear Barry take in a sharp breath.  “Do y-you think if it’s a sprain it could – could need surgery?”

“Scarlet,” Len said, “you’re jumping ahead there, Barry.  Take a deep breath.  We don’t even know what’s wrong with it yet.”

“But –”

“If it feels like a break,” Len said, “then it probably is.  And if you say it looks normal, then it probably won’t need to be set.  I know it hurts like hell right now, but if that’s the case then Cait won’t need to do much.  Just take some deep breaths.”

“OK,” he said, “OK.”  Len could hear him trying to calm down on the other end.  “You’re going to Star Labs?”

“I’ll meet you there,” Len said.  “I’m going to stay on the phone with you until Caitlin and Cisco reach you.”

“Oh – OK,” Barry said, “I – aghh, it hurts.”

“Just take deep breaths,” Len said, “it’ll heal soon, and then it won’t hurt.”

“I know that,” Barry ground out, “It still hurts _now_.”

Len smiled.  “Deep breaths, Scarlet.”

“I am,” Barry said, sounding irritated.

“I’m proud of you for calling,” Len said.

There was a beat of silence, and then a huff.  “Yeah, well I couldn’t really move on my own, so –”

“I’m still proud of you,” Len said, “I know it’s not easy.”

Another pause, and then Barry’s voice was quieter.  “I promised,” he said, “and… and I know Iris was right… I know you guys are right, I have to get checked out, I just…”

“It’s still hard,” Len said.

“Yeah,” Barry breathed out, “but… but I think this one’s OK.  I – I think it’s a clean break.”

“That’s good,” Len said, “hopefully it is, and Caitlin will just stabilize it for you, and in a few hours you can go home.”

“Yeah,” Barry said, another breath out, “I – I’m just – I don’t – don’t like her t-touching.”

“It won’t take long,” Len said, “I’ll meet you there.  You’ll be fine.  Just remember that this is Caitlin – she’s your friend and you know she would never hurt you – it might be a little painful and I know that sucks but it’s still just Caitlin and she just wants to get you healthy the best way possible.”

“Yeah,” Barry said, “I just really – really don’t like her touching – the injuries, I mean – I don’t – it makes me nervous, and it hurts… I know it’s just… it’s not bad, the pain’s not bad, I should probably be used to it by now, but it still – still makes it harder.”

“That’s a normal reaction,” Len said, “it’s something that already makes you anxious and on top of that it hurts – it’s perfectly OK to not like it – to not be used to it.”

“I…” Barry trailed off, “I can’t tell if my pain tolerance is better or worse now.  After I first got my speed… I got more used to it.  Getting hurt – I broke a lot of bones and got a lot of bruises, and after a while it didn’t seem as bad – it didn’t bother me as much as it did at first.  But… when… when I was there it… I thought I’d get used but it – it just – it kept g-getting worse, and – and –”

“Scarlet,” Len said carefully, “take another deep breath for me, OK?”

He heard him take a long breath over the line, and then his voice was a bit steadier.  “It just… I was so scared – when they would come in, and it just… it just made everything worse…”

“Fear can heighten pain,” Len said.

“I know, that’s – that’s what I think it is.  I think… I get nervous, or I start panicking, and then – then it seems a lot worse.  I broke my ankle before, but this – it _feels_ like it hurts a lot more, but… I don’t know if it’s just because I’m nervous.”

“Probably because you’re nervous,” Len said, “keep taking deep breaths.  You’re going to be just fine.”

“I hate leg injuries.”

“Pretty sure any broken bones suck,” Len said.

“Yeah, but I hate… I hate not being able to run – I feel like I’m trapped.”

“You’re not trapped,” Len said, “Caitlin and Cisco are coming to get you, and even if someone did see you right now, I’m pretty sure you’d be fine.”

“Yeah,” Barry said, and then paused, “Can we… can we do something after this?”

“Yeah,” Len said, a little taken aback, “yeah, of course.  What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Barry said, “maybe just watch a movie?  I don’t… I don’t know how I’ll feel…”

“We could definitely go watch a movie,” Len said.

“Could we… maybe go to your place?  Or, um, one of your places?  Joe will be back today and… that’s… probably not a good idea.”

Len paused, but then took in a breath.  “Yeah, we can do that.  Lisa kind of killed that route anyway.”

Barry laughed over the line.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Len said, huffing, “it’s her I’m irritated with.”

“She’s actually kind of nice.”

“ _Actually?_ ”

“Well, I – I mean she did kind of kidnap Cisco and shoot at me with gold…”

Len laughed.  “Relax – I know what you meant.”

“Can you… when you get – when Cait has to… to t-touch…”

“Yeah?”

“Could you um… this is, it’s weird, and – I just – it makes me feel better, but – fuck, it just hurts and…”

“Spit it out Scarlet.”

“Could you maybe… when Caitlin… when she looks at my ankle – when she… when she has to touch it, could you – um, just kind of… um, play… with my hair?  Like, a little?  Just – fuck, that sounds weird, I just – it – my parents used to, and it – it’s not – it’s, well, obviously not something… that they did, so it – it helps – it makes me not feel like – like I’m there, and it – it’s going to hurt, when Caitlin… yeah, it’ll hurt and that’ll – it’ll give me something.  You know, to focus on.  Besides the – the prodding.”

“Scarlet,” Len said, a little thrown, but frowning at how quickly Barry moved to try to explain himself, “that’s fine.  I can do that.  Whatever you need to make it easier.”

“Really?  That – thanks.  Thank you, it – I know it’s weird, it – it’s really embarrassing, it just –”

“Barry,” Len said, “it’s fine.  I don’t think it’s weird, it’s fine.  Lots of people like that.  It’s fine.”  He was surprised at the relief in Barry’s voice, the simple relief in that one “really?” that had something breaking in him.

“Oh… OK.  Thanks.  It… thanks.”

“Not a problem,” Len said

 

 

 

 

 

When Barry told him that Caitlin and Cisco had arrived, Len left.  When he got to Star Labs he found the main med bay empty, and went to Barry’s room instead.  He knocked lightly before opening the door.

Barry was lying in the bed, propped up on multiple pillows with blankets over him.  he was gripping one of the blankets tightly in both hands, frowning.  The blanket was off his ankle, which was wrapped in ice and lying on a pillow.  Cisco wasn’t in the room, and Caitlin was grabbing a water out of the fridge.

Barry’s eyes lit up when he saw him, and Len felt a little shutter burst of something at that.  He gave him a tight smile and grabbed a chair before dragging it over and sitting next to him.

“How is it?” he asked.

“It hurts,” Barry said, still frowning.  He sent a scowl at Caitlin.  “And now I’m cold too.”

“I think it’s a fracture,” Caitlin said.  "Cisco’s sending the x-rays through.  We’ll be able to see in a minute.”

“So OK so far?” Len asked, looking at Barry.

Barry just grumbled something, so Len took it as a yes.  He slid his hand onto the bed, open, and after a moment, Barry looking down, then back up, and back down, Barry took it.

“Ah, he sent them,” Caitlin said, looking at a tablet.  Len looked over and Caitlin’s smile flickered.  He watched her swallow, and the coil of fear that seemed to snap tight in Barry was curling in Len as well.

“What is it?” Barry said, his hand gripping tight on him now, his face going pale.

“I need to have a look at your ankle,” she said, moving over to the bed.  She pulled over a small tray table and placed the tablet flat on it, then started moving the ice off of his ankle.

“Why?” Barry asked.  “I thought it was just a fracture?”

Caitlin paused.  She stopped for a moment and then looked at Barry, placing a comforting hand on his knee.  “It might be a little bit more,” she said.

She waited for that to register.  Len looked between them.  Barry’s face paled more, and he gripped tighter on Len’s hand again, fisting the sheet with his other one.

“What – what do you mean?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Caitlin said, “the x-ray only tells me so much.  I’m going to feel around on your ankle a little bit, and then I should be able to tell what’s wrong.  But I don’t think this is going to be as simple as we thought.  There’s something not quite right with the bone.”

“What does that mean?” Barry asked, already starting to breathe faster.

Caitlin rubbed his knee, speaking soft and calmly.  “It means it’s going to be a little more difficult.  Nothing I can’t fix, but a little harder than just a fracture.  I don’t think it needs surgery.  I should be able to fix anything by manually manipulating it outside the body, but I need to take a look to see exactly what I’ll have to do.”

“You – is it – you have to set it?  It doesn’t look out of place?” Barry said.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I have to take a look.  But I think I’ll need to do some pressing, like setting a bone.  The part that looks damaged – it’s not big, so I don’t think it’ll be as bad as setting bones no matter what I do.”

Barry was trembling a little, frowning, scared.  Len gave his hand a squeeze.

“It’s going to be fine,” Len said, his voice the same tone as Caitlin’s, calm and slow.  “It might hurt a little more than we thought, but you’re going to be OK.”

“I –” Barry swallowed, and then his face broke and he just made a whimpering noise in his throat, looking to Len with a desperate fear and dread in his eyes, like he was looking for help.

“It’s OK,” Len said, “we’ll get it done quick, whatever it is.  Just breathe, Barry.”

“I’m going to start feeling around your ankle,” Caitlin said, and Barry’s breath hitched, and then sprang into hyperventilating.

“Hey, easy,” Len said, putting his other hand on his shoulder.  “Scarlet, it’s OK.  She’s just looking.  This was part of the plan all along, remember?  You knew this part was going to happen and you know it’s going to be alright – nothing too bad.”

Barry just looked scared, and he kept looking from Len to Caitlin.  Caitlin reached up to touch his knee again. “I’m just looking,” she said, “it might hurt a little, but I’m not going to try to manipulate anything right now.  Just see what we’re dealing with.  If it hurts too much, you can tell me to stop, and I’ll give you a break, OK?”

Barry nodded, settling a little bit at that.  He still looked terrified, glancing down at his ankle now as Caitlin moved back to it.

“Why don’t you lie down a little more,” Len said, and Barry shook his head.  “You wanted me to touch your hair, right?”  Barry blushed bright red and glanced over at Caitlin but Len kept his eyes on him.  After a second Barry nodded.  “Alright, then I need you to lean down a little,” Len said.

Barry hesitated, and then complied, moving so his shoulders and not his back leaned against the pillows.  He craned his neck down anyway to see what Caitlin was doing.

Len reached up, and with his free hand, the one not locked in a death grip in Barry’s, started running his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly, and rubbing circles to the back of his neck, at his hairline.  Barry was still flushing red, but it seemed to work in helping him to calm down.

“I’m going to start touching your ankle,” Caitlin said, and Barry tensed.  She touched his skin and he flinched, pulling his ankle back, trembling.  Caitlin reached out again as he slowly let his ankle go back.  Barry squeezed his eyes shut, but Caitlin just touched the skin above his ankle lightly, and used her other hand to hold his foot.  When he had relaxed again she started moving, skimming over the skin on his ankle lightly.  Barry winced and turned his head to the side, in towards Len, but for the first five minutes all Caitlin did was run her fingers over his ankle, getting him to calm down and get used to her touch.  When she did start applying pressure, she did it slowly, gradually, so he didn’t get any quick shocks.  It was fifteen minutes in before she was really actually looking at anything, able to apply enough pressure to tell anything about the muscle and bone.  By then, Caitlin knew it would hurt, and Barry was twisted up, eyes still squeezed shut, wincing and groaning and whimpering every few seconds, but he stayed relatively still, and, although he was quite obviously nervous, he didn’t start panicking.

“It hurts,” Barry said, his eyes closed, head turned towards Len, clenching his hand tightly.

“Almost over,” Len said.  Barry let out a small noise of pain and then squirmed away from Caitlin.  The pain was a burning, sharp heat in his ankle now, and it was creeping up, verging to the end of his tolerance.  Barry let out a sharp whine, jerking slightly.

“Barry,” Caitlin said, pausing as her hands stilled over his skin, “I’m going to have to make a small adjustment.  I know you don’t like being held down, but I’m going to need Cisco to –”

“What?” Barry said, his eyes open and wide now, looking down, “no – Cait, I – I’ll hold still, just – what – why, how much – I thought you said it wasn’t that bad, you said it wouldn’t be as bad as setting a bone and –”

“I don’t know how bad it’s going to be,” Caitlin said gently, “I don’t think it’ll be as bad as setting a bone, but I do know it’s not going to feel good, and it’s a smaller adjustment, and if you jerk away from me I could make it worse.”

“I-I’ll hold still,” Barry said, pushing himself up a little on the bed, drawing his ankle away.  “What – are you sure it has to be – adjusted, can’t it – it’s already healing, can’t it just –”

“Scarlet,” Len said, “deep breath.  If Caitlin says you need it, then you need it.  Cisco will be gentle, and it’ll be over really fast.”

“No, Len,” Barry said, looking anxiously as Cisco moved around the bed.  He pulled back from him.  “No,” Barry said, “I’ll hold still, I’ll hold still, please, I –”

“Barry,” Len said, his hand moving to the side of his face.  “Look over here.  It’s OK.  It’s going to be over fast, and then you’ll be all done.  Cisco’s just going to hold you steady.  He’s just helping you hold still for Caitlin, so everything goes like it’s supposed to.”

“No, I don’t want to be held down,” Barry said, his legs up and ankle folded in near his body, trying to keep it away.  “It’s fine, please, I’ll hold still.”

“Barry,” Len said, “you need to take some deep breaths, and you need to let Cisco and Caitlin help you.”

“No,” Barry said, frantically, shaking his head, looking down, “I can’t – it – no.  I’ll be good – I’ll hold still, I’ll be good I’ll hold still, please, I can’t –”

“Scarlet,” Len said gently, “Scarlet, this isn’t a matter of you being good.  You’re being really good already – being really brave for us.  We just need you to be brave for a little bit longer.  Take a deep breath.  Breathe with me for a minute.”

“No,” Barry said, “I can’t be held down, please, I just can’t, I – it’s like it, I can’t.”

“OK, OK,” Len said quietly, “just relax, Scarlet.  Take deep breaths with me for a minute.  It’s OK.  You’re OK.”

Barry shuddered, breathing hard and only now realizing it.  He tried to reign it in, tried to chase back the ice in his throat, but he found it getting worse, his head getting dizzy, everything spinning.

“Barry,” Len said, and he sounded alarmed.  Barry was losing his vision again.  He started to shake.

“Don’t,” he said, “don’t let them, please, please Len, I can’t, please.  Don’t hold me down, please, don’t, I don’t – I – I – please, no – God, no – I – I ca-an’t, I can’t, God, no, please, please don’t, do-on’t, _don’t_.”

“Shhh,” Len said, “breathe, Barry.  It’s OK.  Nothing’s going to happen to you.  Breathe, Scarlet.  It’s OK.  Everything’s OK.”

Barry shook, trembling all over.  “I don’t want it set,” he said, “I can’t see.”

“It’ll come back,” Len said, “but you have to breathe for me, Scarlet.  You have to breathe in slower.  You’re going too fast there.”

“It hurts,” Barry said, it coming out as a sob.

“I know it hurts,” Len said, “it’ll stop hurting after Caitlin fixes it.  But we can wait a minute if you need it.  We can wait a second, I know she was just touching it and that made it worse.  You’re OK.  You’ve gone through worse.  You can handle it.”

“I don’t want it set,” he said again, “I don’t, Len – I can’t be held down, please – please don’t let them, please, I can’t, please, help, I can’t –”

“No one’s holding you down,” Len said, “just relax, Scarlet, it’s OK.  Just take deep breaths, you’re safe.”

“I’m safe?”  Barry looked dazed, swaying slightly, his eyes unfocused.

“You’re safe,” Len repeated firmly.  “I’m right here.  I’m not letting anything happen to you.  You’re safe.”

“I’m safe,” Barry mumbled.  He kept shaking.

“Can you take a deep breath for me now?” Len asked, and after a second it seemed to register and Barry did.  “That’s good, real good, Scarlet.  Take another one now?  Nice and easy – there, good, like that.”  He kept talking for a couple minutes, and Barry slowly calmed down a little, until the trembling had stopped and he was just feeling drained and anxious.

“Cisco’s going to touch your leg,” Len said, when he could tell Barry could see again, and when he had stopped shaking.

“No,” Barry said, his face contracting instantly.

“He’s just going to steady you,” Len said, “just helping.  Not holding you down.  Just steadying.  Take a deep breath.”

Barry whimpered, and Cisco gently took his leg.  Barry let out a cry and turned his head sharply away.

“Easy, easy,” Len said, wiping a thumb over his forehead, wiping away sweat. 

Barry’s breathing had kicked up again.  Len looked over at Caitlin.

“Barry,” Len said gently, “Caitlin’s going to touch your ankle now.”

Barry whimpered, curling over on his side, all tensed up.  “It’s going to hurt, Len,” he said, trembling again.

“It’s OK,” Len said, “just for a second, then it’s over.  We’re going to get it done quick now, OK?”

“Len,” Barry said, his voice strung tight with fear.  “No, wait –”

“Barry,” Len said, “I know you’re scared, so we’re just going to get it over with now.  It’s OK.  I promise, it’s OK.”

Barry started to hyperventilate worse, looking at Len with wide, scared eyes.

“It’s OK,” Len said, “squeeze my hand.  We’ll get it over with now.  OK, Scarlet?  I’m gonna tell Caitlin to do it, OK?”

There was a crumbling moment in Barry’s expression, and then he whimpered and nodded, shutting his eyes.  Len looked up, and a moment later Caitlin had her hands on Barry’s ankle.

There wasn’t any noise to it, not like when Caitlin set bones and they snapped into place with a pop.  Barry just suddenly stiffened, and then let out half a yell before jamming his teeth shut, a strained groan coming out around them.  He twisted sharply, and then turned back, eyes closed and panting.

“It’s OK.  It’s OK, you’re all done,” Len said, “you did such a good job, Scarlet.  It’s all done now.  You’re OK.”

“Oh, God,” Barry said, bringing an arm up against his face, hiding in the crook of his elbow.  “Oh, God, it hurts.”

“Just breathe,” Len said, “it’s all done.”

It took Barry a couple more minutes to come down from the pain.  Caitlin wrapped up his ankle and Len let Barry crush his hand while he rode out the pain.

“Can I go home, now,” Barry asked, as soon as it was done.

“Let me just check a couple of these cuts,” she said.

Barry squirmed, frowning.  He was looking around nervously and he seemed anxious to get home, even more so then usual.  He flinched away while she looked at the various scrapes and cuts he got, swabbing with antiseptic where she deemed necessary.  He winced and kept squirming away, but besides the brief pain, he wasn’t overly panicky about those.  She just cleaned off the blood and sterilized it.  When she finally told him he could go home he practically jumped off the table.

“Easy,” Len said.  Caitlin had put his ankle in an air cast, and Barry hobbled across the room. 

“Let’s go,” he said, already at the door.  Len followed him out, not saying much as Barry moved as quickly as possible as they took Len’s motorcycle to Len’s house.

When they got there Barry pulled him inside, and the look on his face was racing.  He kept clenching and unclenching his hands and looking around, his stance tense, like he was about to bolt.

“Barry,” Len said, coming up behind him, “what’s wrong?”

He shook his head.  “I –” and then he stopped.  He turned around, and his face was fractured, struggling with himself and miserable.  “It hurts,” he said.

Len frowned and put a hand on his arm.  “It hurts right now?  Do you think it’s not healing right?”

Barry shook his head, letting out a shaky breath.  “No – it…”  He looked around, his hands still clenching and unclenching, his eyes darting and fearful.  “No it hurt when Cait – when she set it.  It hurt, and I – it just, it still hurts, but it’s – it just – it reminds me, and I – I can’t stop – it keep – I keep _thinking_ –”

Len wrapped him in a hug and Barry shuddered.  Len rubbed his back, frowning.  “Hey,” he said, “it’s all done now.  It’s all over.  You did great.  You did such a good job.  You called, just like you’re supposed to, and you stayed calm, and Caitlin and Cisco came and got you, and it all went right to plan, and Caitlin took care of you and you did a really great job letting her.  I know it was scary, and hard, and it hurt, but you did it anyway, and you did a really, really great job, Scarlet.”

Barry shook his head, and there was a look in his eyes that heightened, that just made him look sad.  “You always say that,” he said, “but I don’t.  I don’t do a good job.  I can’t even – God, Len, I can’t – I hate even, just – just her _touching_ me.”

“I know you hate it,” Len said, rubbing his back, “but you do it anyway.  That’s what makes you strong.  That’s why I say you did a good job.”

Barry shook his head.  “But I still… I don’t – I don’t want to.  To let you.  I wouldn’t, you guys – I wouldn’t do it on my own, I’d just let it heal wrong, you guys always have to ma-”

“Barry,” Len said, “you’re allowed to have help.”

But Barry shook his head.  “I’m always so – I hate – I hate being afraid, Len, I hate letting it – Iris was right, I let it dictate my decisions way too much, but I can’t – I just freeze and – and I’m so scared, and it hurts, and it’s so hard to –”

“Barry,” Len said, “it’s OK.  It’s OK that you can’t do it on your own.  You let us help you, and that’s the important part.”

He shook his head.  “I hate being afraid of pain,” he mumbled, looking down.  His face blushed red.  “It makes… it makes me feel weak.”

“You’re not weak,” Len said, “Barry, you know you can get hurt but you keep going out as the Flash anyway, you’re terrified of getting hurt but you don’t let it stop you, that is the exact opposite of weak.”

Barry let out a long breath. “But I don’t let you take care of it afterwards.  Not without you talking me into it, or making me.”

“That’s OK,” Len said, “you still need some help.  That’s alright.  You went through something horrible, Barry – I don’t think you really realize that.  You’re allowed to be scared.  You’re allowed to be hurt and need help.”

“Well I don’t like it,” Barry mumbled.

Len smiled though.  “I know you don’t,” he said gently, “but it’s OK.

Barry was quite for a little bit, and Len stayed where he was, arms wrapped around him.

“I think I want to go to sleep,” Barry said.

Len looked up, Barry leaning back enough for them to make eye contact.  “OK,” Len said, “do you want me to go?”

There was a flicker across Barry’s eyes.  “No,” he said, “I – unless – unless you have to?”

“I don’t,” Len said.

“Oh,” Barry said, and Len didn’t miss the relief that flashed across his face, “can you… can you come talk to me, then?  Like – like before?”

“Yeah, of course,” Len said, and there was another wash of relief over Barry’s face, and then a small smile.


	23. Don't Touch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry needs a shot, and Barry faces Grodd. It does not end well.

“Hello?”

“I have to get six shots.”

Len blinked.  He checked the caller ID, and then blinked some more.  He had just woken up from a nap, shrugged himself up on the couch.  “OK,” he said, yawning, “when?”

“Today.”

“Alright, well –”

“I’m not doing it.”

Len paused.  He took in a long breath.  “Barry –”

“At least three of them are going to be really painful and Caitlin said I couldn’t just have an IV and its precautionary, it’s – it’s a five, so I don’t have to, and I’m not –”

“Barry, slow down,” Len said, just as his phone buzzed.  He looked at it to find an incoming call from Caitlin.  “Barry, hold on one second, OK?” he said.

“Is it Caitlin?  Don’t answer!”

“Actually, I’ll just put it on conference,” Len said as he hit answer.

“Hi, Len?”

“I don’t need it!”

“Yeah, Caitlin, you’re on –”

“Barry?  Is that Barry?  You do need it, Barry, this isn’t –”

“It’s _precautionary_.”

“Precautionary is not synonymous with optional, Barry.”

“It is in this case!  I don’t need –”

“You do need –”

“– the shots.”

“Hold on,” Len said, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Time out.  What are the shots for?”

“Antibiotics and a set of serums for the metahuman he locked up yesterday.”

“And he needs them?”

“I don’t –”

“Scarlet,” Len said, his voice sharp for a moment.  “Are you a doctor?”

“A – no, but –”

“Then stop talking for two seconds.”

“Yes, he needs them,” Caitlin said.

“ _No_ , I _don_ -”

“Scarlet, if you’re doctor says you need them, then you need them.”

“But I –”

“No,” Len said, “you need them.  End of discussion.  What time does he need to go in?”

“As soon as possible,” Caitlin said, but her voice softened a little, “but you can have a couple hours if you need it.  It doesn’t have to be _right_ away.”

“Alright, thanks, Caitlin,” Len said, “I –”

There was a rush of air and then suddenly Barry was standing right in front of him.

“Yeah, I gotta go, I’ll see you soon,” Len said to Caitlin, and then hung up.  “What’s up?” he asked.

 

 

 

“I don’t need to go,” he said, emphatically.

“Barry,” Len started.

“ _I don’t_ ,” Barry said, insisting.

“Barry,” Len said, his voice taking on a sterner note, “Caitlin said you do need it.  Caitlin is your doctor.  You are not a doctor.  You need it.”

“Well I don’t want it,” he burst out, and then started pacing across the room.

“How did you even find this place?” Len asked.

“Lisa texted me,” Barry said distractedly, “we’re having dinner tomorrow, remember?”

“Right,” Len said, “so you just ran here on the off chance I’d be here?”

“I checked Saints and Sinners first,” Barry said, and then stopped pacing to glare at him, “don’t change the subject.”

“Was just wondering, Scarlet,” Len said.

“I don’t want to go,” Barry mumbled.  He chewed on his bottom lip, his expression rushing, like he was trying desperately to figure a way out of the whole thing.

“It’s just a few shots,” Len said, “it’ll be fine.”

“It’s _six._ ”

“Caitlin set a bone for you just a couple of days ago.  You can do a few shots, Barry.  It’ll be fine.”

“That’s different,” Barry said, “that – that was quick.”

“Well, we could do this quick too – I’m sure me and Cisco could each give you a shot at the same time as Caitlin, and then it would just be –”

“No,” Barry said, spinning around and looking horrified.

“Or we can do them all one at a time,” Len said, holding up his hands, palms out, backtracking, “you don’t have to, it was just a suggestion – if you wanted it to be over fast.”

Barry shook his head.  “No – I – I can’t do that, all at once like that – that just – no, no I can’t.”

“OK,” Len said, “you don’t have to.  We can take our time instead.  Caitlin said you had a few hours to work with, it doesn’t have to be all at once.”

“I don’t want to do it at all,” Barry said, his expression collapsing.

“Barry,” Len said, “why don’t you come sit down?”

Barry shook his head, hands clenching to fists over and over again, and still biting at his lip.  He kept pacing around, looking more and more agitated until he stopped suddenly, looking back over at Len.

“Where’s your kitchen?”

Len stared at him, confused for a second, before he realized why he was asking.  “Scarlet, that’s not a good idea,” he said.

Barry let out a frustrated noise and disappeared into the hallway.  Len got up to follow him.

He found Barry already in the kitchen, pulling out cups and bowls and –

“You barely have any mugs,” Barry said, his hands starting to shake.  “You only have two bowls!”

“This is just a safe house,” Len said, “we don’t stay here that often.”

Barry filled up all of the dishware they did have, and Len just watched because he had a bad feeling that if he tried to intervene he’d make things a lot worse a lot faster.  So he let him fill up the containers.  There wasn’t much there anyway.

“You ready to talk now?” Len said when Barry had finished, still rummaging around the cabinets looking for anything else.

“I can’t do six of them,” Barry said, still looking, “it’s too much.”

“You can do it,” Len said, “stop telling yourself that you can’t.  I know you can.  It’s not so bad, just some shots.  If you tell yourself that you can’t do it then you’ll only make it harder for yourself.”

“I – I can’t even think about getting one,” Barry said, and his voice cracked suddenly and he was staring at the ground.

“Barry,” Len said, walking carefully over to him before putting a hand on his shoulder.  “You can get the shots, and you’ll be fine.  You’ve done tons of IV’s and blood draws already, and those are worse.  I know it’s overwhelming to think of getting all six, but you can do it, and you’ll be fine.”

“I – I don’t – it’s six, Len, it’s – that’s so many, that’s – I hate – I barely get through one, how am I – how am I supposed to get through six?”  He looked up suddenly and tears were running down his face, his eyes red, mouth a trembling line.

“Hey,” Len said softly, pulling him in for a hug.  He felt Barry rest his forehead against his shoulder, and let out a small, noiseless sob against him.  Len rubbed his back gently, holding him in close.  “You’re going to be fine.  It’s going to be just fine.  You’re safe, Scarlet.  You’re safe here.  It’s OK.”

Len felt Barry nod against him, and after a moment he slowly pulled back, and then led them both back to the couch.  They sat down, and Len took Barry’s hand, holding it firmly, his other hand around his back.

“Let’s talk about it,” Len said, looking at him steadily.  “Let’s make a plan.”

Barry looked away, but nodded, swiping the back of his wrist across his face.  “OK,” he said softly.

“How about we just take it one thing at a time,” Len said.

Barry nodded slowly, looking a little confused.

“Do you think you could do that with the shots?  Just focus on one at a time?”

“I – what do you mean?” Barry said, already looking nervous again.

“Don’t think of it as getting six shots,” Len said.  “You’re just getting one shot.  We’ll do them each one at a time, and you can have a break in between each one.”

“Oh… OK,” Barry said, shuddering.

“How long do you think you’ll need for breaks?” Len said.

“I – I don’t – how long can I have?” Barry asked.

“I’m not sure,” Len said, “depends on when we go in.  But let’s try to keep them shorter.  The shorter the breaks, the sooner it’ll all be over.”

“I – I don’t know, Len,” Barry said.

“How about five minutes,” Len said.

Barry’s eyes widened.  “No – that’s – that’s way too short.”

“Ten?”

Barry shook his head again.

“I think ten might be good,” Len said.

“No, I – I need longer.”

“You can usually calm down in about five minutes,” Len said, “as long as it’s not a panic attack.”

“No, I – at least fifteen.”

Len thought about it for a minute.  “OK,” he said, “fifteen minutes.”

“What happens if I need longer?” Barry asked.

“I think fifteen will be plenty long,” Len said.

Barry shook his head, “I could – I don’t – I don’t want you to – to force me, if – if I panic, and –”

“Hey,” Len said, rubbing his back again for a moment, “no one’s going to force you.  That’s just how long the break is.  We’re not going to just stick you after exactly fifteen minutes is up.”

“Oh… OK,” Barry said, “I just – I don’t – if I need a couple more minutes –”

“How about,” Len said, “we say fifteen, and you can have an extra five minutes if you really need it?”

“OK,” Barry said.

“But we’ll take them one at a time,” Len said, “what do you want during the breaks?”

“I want you to stay with me,” Barry said, almost immediately, and then he flushed red and looked down.  “Like… just… just keep talking to me, and… and I – I’m safe, and – I – I don’t feel safe, I feel really scared, and I need – I don’t – I don’t remember, when – I – I just need you to tell me I’m safe, and it’s OK, and… and blankets, and – and I don’t – I don’t want to have the shot in bed – I want to lie down afterwards, but not – it’s harder to – to calm down when it’s the same place, so – so we can do the shots on the couch, but – wait, we can do them on the couch right?  I don’t – I can’t do them on the table, that – I don’t want it out, I don’t want the table out, I need to – I can’t –”

“Shh,” Len said, “Barry, there’s no reason the table would have to be out.  It’s OK.  We can do it on the couch and then move to the bed afterwards.”

Barry nodded, looking down again, looking like he was going to start crying again, and then suddenly he had his head in his hands, “I’m so fucking scared, Len.”

“Hey, it’s OK,” Len said, “Barr, look at me.  It’s alright.  Everything’s OK.”

Barry looked up slowly, and he was crying again now.  Len rubbed his back, squeezed his hand.

“It’s OK,” he said, “Everything’s OK, I promise.”

“I don’t want to do this,” Barry said, hiding his face in his hands again.  “It’s so… I’m sorry, I’m trying to – I’m trying not to think like that, I swear, I am, really, it just – it feels – I don’t – I don’t think I can do this, it feels like I can’t, I’m sorry, I –”

“It’s alright,” Len said, “it’s OK.  I know it’s hard.  You’re doing a great job, Barry.  You’re being really brave here, it’s OK to be upset.  Just keep telling yourself you can do it, OK?  It’ll help.  I know this is hard.  You’re OK.  It’s going to be OK.”

“I’m OK,” Barry mumbled, “I can do this, I’m OK.  I can do this.”  He took in a deep breath and then looked up, a cringe on his face.  “When do we have to go?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Len said, “can’t wait too long, because you want those breaks in between, and we want to make sure to give you plenty of time.”

Barry nodded.  “Can we – can we wait a half hour?” he asked, peering up anxiously at him.

“Yeah,” Len said, mentally running that time frame through his head.  “We can wait a half hour.”

Barry was silent for a minute.  “Can… can you hold me?”

Len felt a little jolt.  Barry was stiff next to him, looking determinedly at the ground, fingers playing with the edge of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Len said.  “Yeah, of course.  Come here.”  He let go of Barry’s hand to widen his arms and Barry looked up, a little flash of surprise across his face, followed by a blush as he looked down again, and then moved over into his arms.  Len laid back against the couch, arms wrapped around Barry now, holding him tightly.

“Thanks,” Barry said softly, and then bit his lip.  “I… it –”

“Shh,” Len said, “you don’t have to explain.  It’s fine.”

Barry let out a long breath that Len felt against his chest.  “Thanks,” he said softly.

 

 

 

 

Barry’s grip tightened on Len’s sleeve and Len rubbed his back while Barry squeezed his eyes shut and curled down, away from Caitlin and towards Len.

“Easy, last one, you’re OK,” Len said, keeping his voice steady and calm like he had been the entire time.

Barry whimpered, flinching when Caitlin took his arm.

“Easy, it’s OK,” Len said, as Caitlin injected him.

Barry cried out, jerking as Caitlin drew the shot back again.  “All done,” she said, “that was the last one.  It’s all done.”

Barry took in rasping, fast breaths.  “Oww,” he said, going to rub his arm, “Ow, fuck, that one hurt.”

Caitlin cringed, exchanging a look with Len.  They had given him an easy one to start off with, hoping that would help to keep him calmer throughout.  When it was time for the second one though Barry begged them to give him another of the easy ones, he was hyperventilating so badly.  There were three antibiotic shots, which were much more painful, and Caitlin had saved the worst for last without telling Barry, because she didn’t want to make him do another shot after it.

“It’s all done now, though,” Len said, “you did great.  It’s all over.”

Barry wiped a tear off his cheek, hiding his face in his hands afterwards.  “It hurts,” he mumbled.

“It’ll stop soon,” Len said, “just give it a minute.  It’ll stop hurting just like the other ones stopped.”

“Fuck,” Barry said, and he buried his face against Len’s shoulder, almost falling against him.  Len had a moment to be surprised before carefully adjusting his arms to hold him there instead.

“It’s alright.  It’s all done.  You’re OK,” Len said, “you’re safe.”

“I’m safe,” Barry mumbled, “that one really fucking hurt.”

“I know,” Len said, “but it’s all done now.” 

“That was awful,” Barry said, his voice going thick.

“It’s all done,” Len said, running a hand over the back of his head, resting it in his hair.

 

 

 

 

Barry pulled on the mask over his face.  “So this one will stop Grodd?”

“Built in,” Cisco said, grinning, “so he can’t knock it off this time.”

“Awesome,” Barry said, and with that he took off.

The call had come in five minutes previously, that Grodd was attacking an energy plant.  For what reason, they didn’t know, just that he was causing a lot of destruction and that ambulances had already been called to the scene.  This time, though, they were ready.

Barry was equipped with the telepathic blocking device merged into his suit cowl and a dose of tranquilizer that Caitlin assured him would be enough to take out even Grodd.  He just had to stick him with it.

By the time he got there Grodd was on the second floor, and the building was halfway evacuated.  Barry ran in and out carrying people out of the way first, getting everyone to safety, before he stopped in front of Grodd, who had just torn through another wall.

Grodd’s eyes flashed, and his face twisted into a menacing, and odd expression.

“Not this time, Grodd,” Barry said, guessing that the gorilla was trying to get into his mind.

Grodd’s face twisted again and suddenly he roared.  Barry flashed out of the way as he barreled forward.  Barry ran around to his back, flashed up the side of the wall, and used it to push off of, the syringe out with the tranquilizer in his right hand, reaching towards Grodd as he flew through the air towards him.

And just as he was doing so, as he was suspended, rocketing towards Grodd, the gorilla turned, and with one massive hand, swatted him down like a fly.

Barry went down hard, rolling over and over again across the floor, across rubble and broken bits of wall and glass until he came to a skidding stop, thumping hard against a still intact machine made of metal.  He groaned.

Pain lit up his right side, where he had initially connected with the ground, and a dozen cuts stung and burned over his skin.  Barry picked himself up, but he was only up to one knee when he realized that the syringe wasn’t in his hand anymore.

Barry’s stomach dropped.  His eyes scanned the floor and then his stomach dropped farther.  Around where he had first hit the ground was the distinct shape of the needle syringe and the cracked glass, leaking off-white serum onto the floor.

“Caitlin,” he said, “the tranquilizers smashed.”

There was silence on the other end, just as Grodd roared and started hurtling towards him.

Barry zipped out of the way, only to turn and find Grodd coming at him again, swinging.  Barry ran out of the way again, but it was a small space, no room for him to gain speed.  Grodd kept going at him and Barry kept dodging out of the way, which only seemed to frustrate Grodd more.

“Caitlin!” Barry yelled.

“Hold on, I’m mixing up another.  Keep him occupied.”

“Yeah, that’s not working so well,” Barry said, just as he narrowly escaped being crushed by Grodd’s fist.

“Give me five minutes.  You can run back here and grab it.”

Barry gritted his teeth, running circles around Grodd.  The gorilla just kept coming, and even though Barry was faster than him the small space they were in didn’t leave him much space to run away to.  As it was, he was managing.  He was just starting to think maybe this would work when Grodd spun.

Barry dodged just like he had been doing, running to the left out of the way, but Grodd didn’t bring his fist down like he had thought he would.  Instead, he reached up, smashing the beams above their heads, and suddenly Barry was skidding, backing up, trying to stop as the floor above them collapsed down right in front of him, right where he had been running to.

He felt something slam down on his shoulder, another on his leg, and then a heavy, if glancing, blow to his head.  All he saw was an explosion of dust and rubble suddenly in front of his eyes, and then he was on the ground, in pain, and pushing debreis off of him, coughing up dust and struggling to breathe.  He had just enough time to get himself onto his hands and knees when then –

“ _Flash_.”

And then there was the fear.

 _Needle points, stabs, pain, fear.  So much fear._   Barry screamed, falling to the ground.  He had a split second to think, oh God, please, no, and then there was another wave.

_White coats, masks, stabs, pain, fear, struggling, can’t move, needles, pain, fear._

Barry was vaugly aware that he was curling into a ball, mouth open but no sound coming out, and in his head, Grodd was laughing.

 _Grodd_ , he thought, _stop, please_.

_Lab room, pain, faces staring, fire over his scalp, needles, back of his neck, fear, bright light, can’t move, more pain, howling, confused, afraid._

Barry struggled to push it away, fought to push it down, tried to focus.  He could hear Caitlin talking to him in his ear, but he couldn’t focus on the words.  He tried to remember what it felt like last time, when Iris had spoken to him and he had been able to push it away long enough to stop Grodd, but he couldn’t grasp onto it.  His heart was thudding its way out of his chest and he couldn’t breathe, and every time he managed to get a split seconds reprieve from the onslaught of images and memories Grodd was transferring over, he was instantly met with the disorientating array of his own body – the pain all over and the fear catching in his throat, how he couldn’t seem to breathe.

_Bright lights, pain, needles, can’t move, pain, afraid, fear, scared, pain, hurt, fear, agony ripping over his –_

Barry screamed.  He opened his eyes and in between the flashes, the needles and the bright white light of some lab room he saw Grodd punching through another wall, saw his back to him, walking away. 

Barry was lying on his side, and he wrapped his arms around his knees.

_Needles, bright light, fear, pain –_

Barry bit down hard on his hand.  _Oh God, please, make it stop._

_– white coats, syringe, pain, blinding pain._

 

 

 

Nothing was broken.  That was the good news.  The bad news was that his right shoulder was dislocated and a couple of the cuts needed stitches.  They managed to get his shoulder popped in though and get through all but the last few stitches on the second cut while he was still unconscious.  Then he woke up.

All Barry remembered was being on the ground and Grodd walking away, followed by the same hash of images and overwhelming fear and then suddenly he was waking up to a sharp pain over his stomach and he was screaming.

“Easy, easy, it’s OK, it’s just Caitlin,” Cisco said, pressing hands to his shoulders as he jolted upwards off the bed.

Barry’s heartrate was already through the roof two seconds after waking up and within another two he was shaking, the images playing over in his head again, even though it wasn’t Grodd this time.

“What happened?” he said, “did Grodd – ow, oh God, what – wh-what happened

“He got away,” Cisco said, “but no one else got hurt.  Don’t worry about it right now, man, let’s just get you healed up.”

Barry looked down, immediately saw the needle and froze.  “No – stop, Caitlin stop – stop!”

“Shh, easy, it’s OK,” Caitlin said, putting her hands up, but the needle and thread still in one.  “It’s alright,” Caitlin said.

“No,” Barry said, his stomach turning, threatening to empty.  He suddenly felt dizzy.  “No, stop.  Oh God, no needles.  Cait, I can’t do needles.  Oh God, I – fuck, no – no needles, please, not – anything, just not – Cait, please, I – I –”

“Hey, it’s OK,” Caitlin said, rubbing a hand gently over his arm.  “It’s alright.  Grodd is gone.  You’re back at Star labs.  He can’t hurt you right now.  It’s OK.”

Barry squeezed his eyes shut.  “No needles, please, Caitlin, I – I’m begging you, please, no needles right now, I can’t – I just – no, please, God, please, don’t, please.”

“Shh, Barry, just breathe,” Caitlin said, “just breathe in.  I’m not doing anything right now.  Just breathe in nice and deep.”

Barry shook his head, trying to get in air.  He was gasping.

“It’s OK.  Just breathe,” Caitlin said, “you’re OK.  Nothing broken.  This is the last few stitches.  We already called Len, he’s on his way.  You’re going to be OK.  It was just a bunch of images Grodd through at you.  It’s not real – it didn’t happen there, and it’s not happening to you now.  It’s OK.”

Barry slowly got better control over his breathing, but he kept pleading with Caitlin anyway, for her not to finish the stitches, to take the IV out, to do anything but something with needles.  And she kept repeating in the same gentle tone that everything was OK now, that he was OK, that she wasn’t going to hurt him.  By the time Len got there Barry had tears in his eyes, gripping a water bottle like it was a lifeline and desperately pleading for Caitlin not to finish the stitches.       

“It’s just three more,” Caitlin said, holding his hand now.  “Just three more and I’ll be done.”

“No,” he said, desperately, “you can’t, Caitlin the – I keep – all the needles, with Grodd, it’s – it’s –”

“It’s not real,” she said soothingly.  “What’s real is you.  And you right now are hurt, and I know this will hurt a little bit more, and it makes you anxious, but I have to do it so you can heal right.”

“No, no, please,” Barry said, trembling.

“Hey,” Len said, sliding into the chair already set out by Barry’s side.  “So, telepathic gorillas, huh?  That’s a new one.”

Barry looked over and as soon as Len saw his face he realized that something was very, very wrong.

“I can’t,” he said, hysterical now, “I can’t, Len, please, I can’t do needles, I can’t, I can’t, please – please, Len, I’m going to throw up, I can’t breathe, I need it to stop, oh God, please make it stop.”  He had his head in his hands, trembling and Len leaned forward to rub his back.

“Barry,” he said softly, and he felt his stomach tighten.  “Cisco told me about the memories – with Grodd.  That’s awful, Scarlet.  I’m so sorry.”  He leaned over and looked at the cut.  It was already starting to heal.  He looked over at Caitlin.  She was looking back at him with a desperate expression, her face twisted up and getting increasingly anxious, eyes darting down to the cut.  Len got the message.  It had to be stitched up and it had to be stitched up now, they couldn’t wait any longer.  He could see the edges already healing together wrong, already knew that it would result in nerve damage and bad scarring if not resulting in infection.

 “Scarlet,” he said, his voice immensely calm even as his insides churned, as he winced at what he was about to say.  “We really have to get this done now.”

Barry’s head shot up and Len took his hand gently, sent a look over at Cisco, who moved a little bit closer.

“Can you look at me, Scarlet?” he asked.

“Len,” Barry said, and there was a sudden panic there, “Len, you’re scaring me.  Len, I – I can’t.”  His voice got higher at the end.

“Look right at me,” Len said, and he glanced at Caitlin.  She moved in.  Barry jolted backwards, but Cisco had a hand on his good shoulder now, and Len looked steadily up.  “Barry,” he said, “look at me.”

Caitlin made the first stitch.

Barry screamed, his body going rigid and as he jolted to grab at Caitlin, Len grabbed his hand, bringing the two together and holding them tightly now, as much as to reassure him as to restrain him.

“No,” Barry shouted, his eyes wide and panicked, “No – no, please, stop!”

Caitlin made the next two stitches quickly.  By the end Barry was sobbing, yelling and swearing at them.  Caitlin was done in less than a minute and that was all it took to make Barry a hysterical mess.

“Let go of me,” he screamed, almost screeched, “you said you wouldn’t do this!  You said you wouldn’t!  Let go!  Let the fuck go, let me fucking go, stop!  Stop, you – you – stop, I can’t be- I can- I ca-an’t –”

“It’s done,” Len said softly, letting go of his hands as Barry drew back, curled in on his side, away from him.  Len gently rubbed his back, hesitantly.  “It’s all done.  I’m sorry, Scarlet.  I’m sorry, we had to do it.  It’s all done now.”

“Get away from me,” Barry mumbled, “go away.  Don’t touch me.”

Len’s throat constricted.  He slowly retracted his hand and Barry shivered.  Caitlin was gripping her hands together, looking absolutely torn. 

“I’ll call Iris,” she said after a minute.  Len just nodded.  He looked back at Barry, who was crying silently now, turned away from him and shaking.

“I’m sorry, Scarlet,” he said again, “it’s OK now.  You’re OK.”

Barry didn’t respond.


	24. Should I Not Have?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. (in other words, Grodd is back, Lisa is wonderful, and Len won't buy flowers but he will buy cookies - also, guilt complexes for everyone, and Barry is a stubborn hero)

Barry lay on the couch on his side while Iris held his hand and rubbed his back.  He hadn’t said anything in three hours.

They had the TV on, watching a movie, although Iris wasn’t sure how much Barry was paying attention.  Len had finally left a couple hours earlier, a miserable, pained expression on his face as Iris told him that it would probably be better if he went home, let Barry cool off and calm down, come back around to being more himself.  He had finally gone, hesitant, apologizing one last time in an attempt to get a response out of Barry.  He didn’t get one.

The wounds were healed.  When Caitlin came to get the stitches out Barry nearly had another panic attack, darting into the corner of the couch, shying away from her hands.  Iris ended up holding his hand and stroking his hair as he hid his face in her shoulder and whimpered while Caitlin took them out.  Caitlin had taken the liberty of calling Barry in sick to work for the day and the next, announcing herself as his doctor and stating that he was unwell.

“Do you wanna go home now, Barr?” Iris asked when the movie was over.  Barry’s eyes darted around and he gripped the water bottle in his hands tighter.  He shook his head.

“You sure?” she asked, frowning.  Usually he was in a hurry to get out of there.

He nodded.

“Another movie then?”

He nodded again, so Iris flipped through Netflix before finding one that Barry seemed remotely interested in.  He hadn’t fallen asleep during any of the movies either, which was also odd.  Usually he was exhausted after an ordeal like that.

After that movie Barry was ready to go home, and Cisco drove them back to Joe’s.  Once there Iris found herself in almost the exact same position, Barry lying on the couch next to her, gripping her hand and refusing to let go.  She had to coerce him into even giving it up long enough for her to go to the bathroom.  The night went on like that, Barry staying near silent and refusing to leave her side.  He got a panicked look in his eyes whenever she went more than three feet away from him, and it only stopped when Joe got back and took over her spot for her.  Barry didn’t fall asleep until night time, and Iris called Eddie and told him that she would be spending the night there to stay with him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What do you mean he’s not coming?”

Len sucked in a breath.  “He’s mad at me.”

“You two are fighting?  What did you do?”

Len shot a look over at her.  “Why do you assume it was me?”

Lisa rolled her eyes.  “Oh, please.  I saw him.  He looked like a lost puppy.”

Len sighed.  “He’s just not very happy with me right now.”

He turned and walked away into the living room.  Barry was supposed to come to dinner that night, but after Len sent a couple texts asking how he was doing and got no response, he had pretty much given up on the whole dinner idea.  He bit down on his lip, unsure of whether he should give in and send another text, maybe even call, or if he should leave it alone a little longer. 

“So – what did you do?” Lisa said.  He turned around to find her in the doorway, arms crossed, staring intently at him.

He sighed and sank down into one of the couches, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

“I made him get stitches,” he said.

“You cut him?” she said in disbelief.

“No,” Len said quickly, looking up at her, “no, I – remember, I said he went through a traumatic situation?  He’s terrified of doctors and he got himself hurt and… I – I thought it was the right thing to do, but I… I don’t know now,” he said.

She frowned, and sat down next to him.  “Let me get this straight.  He got cut.  You made him get stitches.  That doesn’t sound like it’s your fault, Lenny.  That sounds like you made him do what needed to be done.”

He shook his head.  “No, it wasn’t like that.  He was already there when I got there, he just – he was trying to make them stop – the stitches – he had been unconscious and then he woke up and… they had been trying to get him to let them do the last few stitches for a long time, and he wouldn’t let them, and – I just – I thought it would be better – he was panicking, he was – he was panicking so bad, Lis, I just thought – I just thought it be better to get it over with – he wasn’t calming down, and it had to be done, and it – it killed me but – I was afraid he’d let it heal without them in and – God, Lis, I’m such an idiot, I was holding one of his hands and when the doctor put in another stitch I grabbed his other hand because he was going to – he was grabbing at the doctor, screaming, and I held his hands still while she finished and now he hates me because I’m a goddamned idiot and I should have talked to him, I should have made him calm down, I should have figured something out instead, I –”

“Len,” Lisa said, a hand on his arm as he put his face in his hands.  Oh God, it was all his fault, all his goddamned fault.  He should never have done it, he should have figured something else out, should have asked Caitlin if the nerve damage would have been severe or not if he had healed without the stitches.  God, he should have figured something else out, some way to calm him down, but he just – he hadn’t known how, and it was already bad and he was scared, he was scared it would end up worse and he had thought, it’s a five, it’s a five and he has to have it done so let’s get it done and over with fast so he can start feeling better again.  He’d thought it was the right choice, he’d thought it was the only way to do it, and then – the look on Barry’s face, the shrill note in his voice.  He had begged – begged them not to.  Oh, God, he was going to be sick.

“Len,” Lisa said again, “it doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong.”

Len looked up slowly, meeting his sister’s eyes.  “I held him down so that his doctor could finish the stitches.  That’s exactly what he was afraid of.  He’s terrified of being restrained and he’s terrified of needles and I made him face both.”

“He had to have it done,” Lisa said, “you were doing what you thought was best.”

“I know,” Len said, running his hand over his face again, “but I think I fucked up anyway.”

“Then tell him that,” Lisa said.

“I apologized,” Len said, “he wouldn’t even look at me.”

To his surprise Lisa just glared at him.  Then she smacked him in the forehead.

“Ow,” Len said in surprise, reeling back.

“Of course he did, you moron, he was upset,” Lisa said.  “If this is as bad as you make it sound then he was hurt and scared and it doesn’t exactly sound like he was thinking straight.  Of course he was mad at you.  Let him relax.  Call him back.  Explain what happened, tell him you’re sorry.  I still don’t think you did anything wrong, though.”

“He was scared,” Len said, “he was so scared and I made him go through it against his will.”

Lisa rolled her eyes.  “He was incapacitated.  Not able to make decisions for himself.  Someone else had to.  Don’t tell me the same thing wouldn’t have happened eventually anyway, it would have just been the doctors and not you.”

He did think about it.  He wondered – and probably, no – Caitlin would.  He thought about her and her calm face and the steady way she took care of him, and yes, eventually she would have had Cisco hold his arms down while she finished anyway, eventually, she would have made the call.  He just got there first.

“Even so,” he said, “I’m supposed to be on his side.”

“You are,” Lisa said, “you were doing what was best for him.  He just didn’t like it.”

“He was _terrified_ Lisa,” Len said, “he didn’t talk for four hours afterwards.”

She shrugged, but looked a little disturbed by that at least.  “You said he was terrified.  He was obviously still affected afterwards.  Sounds like he would have been no matter what they did.”

“Well, yes, but I made it worse,” he said.

Lisa crossed her arms in front of her.  “Go talk to him,” she said.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow.  “Then go be a good boyfriend and bring him flowers or something and go see him.”

“We’re not together, Lisa,” Len said.

She rolled her eyes.  “Fine.  Go buy a get well card then.  Stop sulking and go fix it.”

 

 

 

 

Len stood on the front steps of the West house with a small box of cookies from the bakery downtown because a get well card was stupid and flowers was not going to happen.  Detective Wests car wasn’t in the driveway, so Len figured he was in the all clear.  And just for the hell of it he knocked this time.  And waited.  And knocked again.  And waited some more.

He finally gave up, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and then peered through the windows.  No one was there.  He thought about breaking in to be sure, but figured that Barry was already pissed with him and breaking into his house would probably not help the situation.  He finally gave up and went back to his motorcycle, taking off.

He was halfway back to the safe house, wondering if he should give Iris West a call instead, when he got stuck in traffic downtown.  While waiting for the light to turn, he looked around, his attention caught by a large TV screen in the window of a shop that a few people were huddled around.  It was footage of Grodd attacking the energy plant the day before, and it made Len wince.  And then he looked a little closer, and with a jolt, no, that wasn’t the energy plant from the day before.

Len’s heartrate kicked up and he swerved over, cutting in front of a car to momentarily park the motorcycle on the side of the street, getting off and pushing his way through to the front of the crowd.

_Breaking News_

This was happening right now.

Len watched for any footage of Barry, but there was none, just of Grodd destroying what appeared to be a factory of some sort, and of police shooting at him to no effect.  And if Barry wasn’t there yet –

Len took off on the motorcycle again.

 

 

 

 

“This one should be able to take a punch.”

“And Cisco’s put the serum into darts this time.  Don’t get close.  You have five darts.  You only need to hit him with one.”

Barry nodded, his head feeling dizzy, hands shaking as he took the dart gun from Caitlin, Cisco holding out the helmet-like device he had constructed.

Caitlin and Cisco exchanged a look.  Caitlin took one of Barry’s hands gently.  “Maybe,” she said, “we should just give the dart gun to the police.  They could probably handle it.  You could run it over and tell them you were still injured.”

Barry shook his head, taking in a shaky breath.  “No,” he said, “people are already getting hurt.”

“You’re going back?”

They all turned to look to find Len coming in through the hallway, walking quickly.  Barry’s face contracted.

“What –” he started.

“It was on the news,” Len said dismissively, “Barry, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Barry clenched his teeth.  “I have to go.  Grodd’s already hurt people there, I can’t just sit here.”

“Give the dart gun to the police,” Len said, “they can handle it.  They’re probably a better shot then you anyway.”

Barry shook his head.  “No,” he said, “no, I have to go.”

“Barry,” Len said, and Barry was forced to look up at him, his face a mix – still angry, but terribly afraid now too, and a little glad to see him, a little bit hoping that Len would hold him again and make the panic stop swimming in his brain, would make his thoughts stop racing, make the deep dread in his stomach unclench just a little bit, even a tiny bit would feel like a miracle.

“I have to,” Barry said.  Len’s fists clenched, and his jaw set.  For a second, Barry thought he was angry.

“Give the dart gun to me.”

Barry stared at him.  “What – Len, no, I –”

“Give it to me,” Len said, nodding as he did so, seeming to work it out in his head as he spoke.  He turned to Cisco, pointed at the helmet.  “That’ll stop the monkey from getting in my head?”

“Gorilla,” Caitlin said.

“Yes,” Cisco said, “just make sure to keep it on.”

Len nodded, turned back to Caitlin.  “And all I have to do is hit it with one of those.”

“Yes,” she said.

“How long will that knock him out for?”

“At least an hour,” she said.

He nodded again.  “Alright,” he said, “I have my cold gun with me.  Where is Grodd right now?”

“A factory about ten minutes from here, hold on, I’ll bring up coordinates – there’s a mike in that helmet, I’ll give you directions.”

“Guys,” Barry said, “no, this – no, this is not happening.”

“Give the gun to the police once you’re done,” Caitlin said, “they’ll be able to keep him sedated until the army shows up.  At least, I’m assuming that’s what they’ll do with him.”

Len fitted the helmet onto his head.  “Like this?”

Cisco nodded.  “Yep, you’re online.”

“ _Guys_ ,” Barry said.

“I’ll be back,” Len said, taking the dart gun and walking back out into the hallway.

He was about ten steps down when there was a flash and then Barry was standing right in front of him.

“Len,” he said, “you can’t do this.”

“Yes I can,” he said, “I’m not defenseless, Barry.  I have my gun, and I’m a good shot.  I’ll get him with the dart gun and then I’ll set out of there.”

“I can’t let you,” Barry said, his face pained.

Len let out a breath.  “And why not, Barry?”

“Because you could get hurt.”

“So could you.”

“I heal.”

“Barry.”

“If I get hurt I’ll be fine in a day, if you get hurt you could die, and I’m not – I can’t – I won’t let you do that, Len.”

“Shouldn’t that be my decision,” Len said.

“No,” Barry said, gritting his teeth.  “No, it’s – you’re only doing this because of me, because I – I freaked out, and you – you feel bad so now –”

“Barry.”

“I’m sorry,” Barry said, “I shouldn’t have – I was being childish, ignoring you, and –”

“No,” Len said, reaching up to touch his arm instinctually, “no, Barry, it’s not – it’s my fault, I wanted to – I wanted to apologize, for yesterday, for – I should have talked to you more, I shouldn’t have just held your arms down like that, it was – I thought it was for the best, but I was wrong, it –”

Barry shuddered.  “I – I was upset…” he said, “and I – I don’t want you to do that again…”

“I won’t,” Len said, “I won’t, Barry, I’m sorry, I just –”

“Unless I can’t, you know, unless… unless I can’t… make good decisions.  I guess… I was just scared, Len and – but that – that doesn’t matter, you can’t – I’m OK now, I can – I can do this, I’ll go and get Grodd and –”

“No,” Len said, shaking his head.  “No, if something happened – no, I’m not – I’m not letting you do that again, Scarlet.  I’m not letting you go through that again.”

“I won’t,” Barry said, “I won’t, I’ll have the helmet this time, it’ll –”

“Don’t tell me you won’t still freak out,” Len said, “Barry, don’t tell me everything could go fine, absolutely fine and you won’t still come back here shaking and upset and about to cry – don’t tell me just going back there won’t be awful for you becau-”

“But I have to,” Barry said, “Len, I have to, it’s – it’s my job.”

“Let me help,” Len said, “Barry, let me help.”

Barry shook his head.  “If you got hurt –”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t _know_ that –”

“I won’t,” Len said again, giving his arm a squeeze.

“Len,” Barry said, his expression torn.  “Don’t – I’m sorry about yesterday, Len, don’t – don’t do this just because of that, don’t –”

Len leaned forward and kissed him.

He didn’t even think about it, didn’t even seem to move, it was just happening, and then his lips were on Barry’s and Barry stiffened and Len though _fuck I screwed up_ , for all of one second before Barry relaxed and suddenly his hands were on Len’s back and his lips were pressed tighter to him and Len couldn’t breathe but it didn’t feel at all like he needed oxygen.

And then he was pulling back, and he was looking at Barry, faces close, eyes close.  “It’s not just because of that,” he said, his voice quiet, but firm.  “It’s because I care about you, Barry.  And I don’t want to ever have to – I don’t want to ever have to choose, to decide – to have to decide to do something – to do something like that to you again.  I… Barry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry about that.”

Barry leaned forward, and his eyes closed, until his forehead was just touching Len’s.  “I know,” he said quietly, “I don’t… we can talk about it later.  I don’t… I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“I’m going to go now,” Len said, and God, he didn’t want to go.

Barry looked up.  Just enough to look him in the eyes.  “You have to be careful,” he said.

“I’ll be careful.”

“Promise.”

“I Promise.”

“Thankyou,” Barry said, “Len I…”

“I’ll be OK,” Len said.

“You kissed me,” Barry said, like he was surprised, only realizing it now.

“Yes,” Len said, with a smile, almost a smirk, “I did Scarlet.  Should I not have?”

Barry kissed him then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m fine,” Len said as Barry hovered around him like some sort of frantic fly.

“You’re bleeding,” Barry said.

“Barry –” Len started.

“He’s fine,” Caitlin affirmed.  “It doesn’t even need stitches.  I’ll just bandage it up.”

“See,” Len said.

Barry frowned, somewhere between a glare and a pout.  “You could have been killed.”

“I’m fine,” Len said again.

“He missed you by less than a foot –”

“Barry,” Len said, taking one of his hands.  “he didn’t hit me.  I got him.  I am fine.”

Barry took in a deep breath, looking away for a second and nodding.  Caitlin came back and finished bandaging up his arm, where he had gotten scraped by some debris.

“You’re all set,” she said.

“Thank you,” Len said as he got up off the hospital bed.  Barry walked out with him as he left, an unspoken agreement that he was coming.

“You’re really OK?” Barry asked.

“I’m fine, Scarlet,” Len said again, “I’m perfectly fine.  Little cut on my arm.  That’s it.”

“OK,” Barry said softly.

“Although maybe next time you run out without a plan you’ll think of this, and not be so reckless,” Len said.

Barry rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I know, Caitlin and Cisco already yelled at me about that too.”

Len laughed.  “Good.”

“Are you… can I come back to your place?” Barry asked.

“Yeah,” Len said, “Sure.”  He paused for a second, and then came to a stop a moment later in the hallway.  “You OK?”

“Yeah,” Barry said, “yeah, I’m…”

“You wanna talk once we get there?”

“Yeah.”

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t know,” Barry said, biting his lip.  “I just… it… it was horrible, but… I –” he shuddered.  They had been talking about the stitches the day before, about what to do in the future about it.  Len was rubbing a thumb gently over Barry’s knee.

“I – I’m sorry,” Barry said, flustered, readjusting on the couch, wrapping his arms around himself.  He shook his head fast.  “I – I can’t talk about it, I just – I can’t think about it, I keep panicking.”

“I’m sorry,” Len said, softly, “it’s OK now.”

“I know,” Barry said, shivering.  Len reached behind them and grabbed the blanket thrown over the couch.  He draped it carefully over Barry’s shoulders.  “I know,” Barry tried again, his voice a little stronger.  “I just – I don’t – I – I guess I can’t really – I was so scared, I wasn’t – I don’t even really remember it, Len,” he admitted, biting his lip again, his voice barely more than a whisper, like that fact was a terrible secret.

“That’s OK,” Len said, “it was traumatic for you, and you had just woken up from being unconscious.”

Barry shook his head.  “I mean like, I remember, but it’s – it’s all jumbled, and blurry, and – I just – I was afraid, that’s all I remember, I was so afraid…”  He shuddered again.

“I’m sorry,” Len said again.

Barry shook his head, took in a deep breath, collecting himself again.  “But, what – what I was trying to say is that I – I know I’m not – I know I can’t really make decisions for myself when I’m like that,” he said quietly.

Len nodded.  “Well, I agree with that,” he said.

“But I…” Barry said, and he shuddered.  It seemed that he couldn’t stop trembling or shivering or moving in some way.  “I… I really, really don’t want – don’t want you to ever do something like that again.” 

Len felt his throat tighten.  “I know, Scarlet, look, I – I’m so –”

“No,” Barry shook his head, took in another deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut.  “No, I don’t…. I don’t want you to, and I just – I need you to – I need…”  He shook his head and looked up again.  “I’m not saying this right,” he said.

Len just frowned, confused now.  “Take your time,” he said, still rubbing softly at his knee.

Barry took in another deep breath.  “Right,” he said.  “Right, what I meant… I hate it, a lot, but I… I know… I know you might… have to.”  It looked like it pained him to say it, and he shuddered again, closed his eyes and tensed up.  “I meant… I know you might have to, but I – I need you to… to understand.  How bad it is.  I need you – if you’re going – if you’re going to make – to make those decisions for me, I need you to know how bad it is, because I… because I’d rather take the damage a lot of the time then have things done, and I know – I know if I really thought about… like I’m glad afterwards that you made me, but sometimes… sometimes it’s just… it’s so bad, and I…”  His voice cracked, tears in his eyes again, trembling just thinking about it.

“It’s OK,” Len said, “I get it.  You want me to know how it feels for you, to know what it’s going to do to you if I go through with that.”

Barry nodded, and it pained Len to see him like this.  And a part of him didn’t want to know how bad it was, didn’t want Barry to explain it, because he knew it was only going to pain him worse.

“Yeah, so it – it’s really bad,” Barry said, “and I – I was really scared.”  His voice cracked on “scared,” but he took a deep breath and kept going.  “It was – when you hold me down – when I can’t move – it feels – it feels like I’ve lost all control, like I’m helpless, and – and that makes – that makes me panic, except – it’s – it’s like… like I can’t even think, I’m just – that’s all there is, is the panic.  I’m so scared, and I can’t do anything, and I’m screaming, and you guys won’t stop, and you’re – you’re supposed to help, supposed to make it better, but it – it feels like you’re hurting me –”

Len’s eyes burned and he blinked because he was not going to cry.  His chest ached though, and his throat felt tight, and he couldn’t stop himself.  “I’m so, so sorry Scarlet,” he said.

Barry gave him a shaky smile.  “I know,” he said, “it’s OK.  I’m not – I don’t feel that way now, Len, I’m just – just trying to explain –”

“I know,” Len said, “keep going, sorry, I just – that’s just hard to hear Scarlet.  It’s OK.  Keep going.”

Barry nodded.  “I don’t mean to make you feel bad,” Barry said, “I know… I had to have it done.  I just… that’s what it felt like.  Like you were… like none of you were listening to me, so I was alone, and that – like I was helpless and alone and no one was going to help me, and – and I was panicking so bad and you just kept going and I wanted so bad for it to stop, I would have – I would have done anything to make it stop.”  He stopped for a second, took in another long breath.  “I’m sorry I yelled at you.  I didn’t mean it, I was just… I was scared.”

“You can yell at me all you want,” Len said, “I felt terrible about it afterwards.  I thought… I still don’t know.  If it was the right thing or not.  If maybe the damage wouldn’t have been too bad, or maybe I could have gotten you to calm down if I had just –”

Barry shook his head.  “Don’t.  Don’t, Len, it’s – I forgive you, if there’s even – if I even have any right to be mad at all, then I forgive you.  And it’s done.  I don’t – let’s not.  Let’s just not, it’s done and I don’t want to think about it any longer.”

“OK,” Len said.  “Whatever you want Scarlet.”

Barry nodded, eyes going a little glazed as he seemed to think for a minute.

“Are you,” Len said hesitantly after a second, “are you alright though?  After Grodd?”

Barry looked up slowly.  He took in a deep breath.  “No,” he said, fidgeting, “no, not – no.”  He started shaking again.

“It’s OK,” Len said, reaching out and drawing him in to a hug.  Barry let out a breath and relaxed against him.  “It’s OK.”

“I… it’s making… it’s just really making it worse,” Barry said, his voice tight.  “I keep – I feel really nervous… and I’ve been… I stopped having just the – the random panic attacks, a while ago, and I – they started again, yesterday, or – I just – I had a couple – a couple episodes I guess, yesterday and today – this morning – where I – I just panicked.”

“It’s OK,” Len said, “he’s gone.  He can’t hurt you.”

Barry nodded against him.  The military had come, like they had assumed, and taken Grodd.

“Sometimes,” Barry said, shuddering.  “Sometimes I’m afraid that they’ll come back for me.”

Len tightened his grip.  “If they haven’t yet,” he said, “then I don’t think they will.”

Barry nodded against him.  Len hesitated, and then leaned forward and kissed the top of his head softly.

Barry stilled, and then let out a breath, relaxing against him more.

“Is that OK?” Len asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“That’s OK,” Barry said, a smile in his voice, against Len’s shoulder, and Len smiled too and then kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it only took me 100 thousand words but they finally kissed! lol :)


	25. Drastic Times and All That...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I promise I am actually going to end this part of the series soon... that being said: in which Barry gets injured and Lisa is not a happy camper.

            Len’s phone rang, and his heart plummeted.  He fumbled for his phone while still watching the road, free hand wrapped around the steering wheel, and then flipped it open.

            “Hey, Barry, what’s going on?”

            There was a horrible, harsh noise that was so loud Lisa turned toward him with an alarmed look on her face from the passenger side.  Len flinched.

            “Barry,” he said, a tad of panic in his voice.  “What’s going on?”

            There was another harsh, loud noise, that Len recognized as a sob this time, and then, “I… I – Len – Le _-eennn_.”  Barry’s voice escalated, panic filling the words.

            Len took one look at the address flashing on his screen and made a U-turn.

            “Jesus, Lenny,” Lisa said, gripping onto the sides of the car. 

           Len pulled around and came to an abrupt stop at the side of the road.  He turned to Lisa.  “Get out.”

           “What?” she said, her voice shrill.  “What the hell, Lenny, what are you –”

           “It’s Barry – I need the car – change of plans.”

           “I am not getting out.”

           “Lisa –”

           “Lenny –”

           “I have to –”

           “You are not just leaving me here, Len, I am not getting out of –”

           “It’s an emergency, I need you to –”

           “Well then I’m coming with you.”

           “You can’t.”

            “Why not?”

            “Be-because you just can’t, Lisa, you –”

            “Unless you give me a real reason –”

            There was a soft cry over the phone and Len turned his attention back to that.  “Scarlet?  You there?”

            “H-h-u-urt.  Hel-help – I – L-len…”

            Len’s stomach clenched.  Lisa had her arms crossed in front of her.

            “Lisa,” Len said.

            “I’m not going anywhere.”

            “It’s an emergency,” Len said.

            “Then I’ll help too – whatever it is –”

            “Fine,” Len yelled, throwing up his hands and then violently surging the car forward.  “We don’t have time for this.  Fine.”

            Lisa looked mildly disturbed by his outburst, but otherwise just confused. 

            “You still there, Scarlet?” Len said into the phone.  “It’s Len.  I’m on my way.”

            “Le-en?”

            “On my way,” Len said, “Can you tell me where you’re hurt, Barry?”

            “Mmm… head…”

            Which mean a concussion, which was actually one of the least serious of injuries for Barry, with how fast he healed.

            “Anything else, Scarlet?”

            “I… don’t… know… chest…. Hurts to – to bre-eathe.”

            “OK,” Len said, more alarmed now.  “Is there any blood?  Are you bleeding form anywhere?”

            There was a shuddering breath and then, “Y-yeah… Len, there’s… lots.”

            “Coming from where, Scarlet?”

            He heard Barry whimper over the line as he ran a red light.  “H-h-head.”

            He let out a breath at that.  Head wounds always bled a lot, and Barry would heal from a concussion just fine.

            “M-my s-stomach.”

            And his throat tightened at that.

            “OK, Scarlet, do you think you could put some pressure on that wound for us?  The one on your stomach?  We’re almost there, Barry.”

            “H-hurts to to-ouch.”

            “I – I know, Scarlet.  I really need you to put pressure on that wound though, OK?  So just take deep breaths.  Breathe through the pain and keep your hands nice and tight over your stomach.”

            “Len….”

            “I know it hurts, Barry, but I really, really need you to do that for me.”

            Barry whined, and Len knew he was doing it, probably pouting the whole time.  Len’s voice had gone tight with worry.  He knew he was verging that edge, the point where the frustration and anxiety flowed into his tone of voice. 

            “Are you hurt anywhere else, Scarlet?”  He fought to keep his voice neutral.  Barry fed off his own emotions and he knew if he started panicking Barry would pick up on it, would start his own heart racing and that was the last thing they needed then.

            There was some more harsh breathing over the line.  “Don’t… know.  Leg, but… it’s scraped…”

            “OK, just breathe nice and deep, Barry, we’re almost there.”

            “C-cait’s on – said – she’s –”

            “She’s on her way?”

            “Y-yeah,” Barry said.

            “How far out is she?  Did she say?”

            “I’m, um… I think… fifteen?  I think… it’s not far… from S-star…”

            “Barry?”

            “Ah, hurts Len, can – are you… almost?”

            “Almost there.”

            “’Kay.”  There was a wobble to his voice that had Len’s stomach clenching.

            “We’re almost there, Barry, we’ll be there in two minutes, promise.”  He zipped around a corner.  Lisa gripped the side of the car, sending him a look.

            “Emergency,” he said back to her.  “He’s hurt.”

            “Who… are you… is there someone…?”

            “Uhh,” Len said, taking a deep breath as he turned around the final bend.  “Drastic times and all that…”  He trailed off, eyes glancing over at Lisa.  Barry was going to be pissed, but he could deal with that later.  His eyes shot back to the road as he slammed on the brakes, swerving to the side of the road, parking.  “I’m here, Barry, where are you at?”

            “In the back…”

            Len got out, opening the back and grabbing a first aid box as he went.  Lisa got out as well and Len grimaced.  Well, she was probably going to find out eventually anyway.  Probably.

            Len ran around the back entrance, eyes scanning the alley until he saw the distinct shape of a red clad leg around a corner.  He darted over, Lisa following.

            “Barry,” he said, and Barry’s eyes moved up, meeting his.  Len’s stomach twisted again.

            He was in pain.  That much was obvious.  It was getting harder and harder to see him in this kind of pain for Len, the way his eyes got that glazed look and his whole body was rigid with tension.  Len took a deep breath before dropping to his knees beside him.

            “It’s OK,” he said, reaching out without thinking, hand going to the side of his face.  “it’s alright, I’m here.”

            Barry was a mess.  His eyes were watering, and there was blood dripping down the side of his face from a gash on his forehead.  His arms were tight around his stomach, like Len had instructed, and he felt a quick burst of pride and admiration that he had managed to follow that instruction when it was obviously causing him more pain.  His suit was covered in blood, especially over his stomach and hands, and on his leg.  It was scraped with gravel and blood was oozing out the sides.  Len’s stomach did a flip.

            “Alright, Scarlet, let me see that stomach.”  Len immediately focused on the biggest threat, and he snapped open the first aid kit, carefully taking Barry’s hands and moving them.

            Barry whimpered.  “H-hu-u-urts.”

            “I know,” Len said, gently wiping away blood with the sleeve of his shirt.  “I know, I know, shh, I’ve got you.” 

            “Lenny,” Lisa said from behind him.

            Barry’s eyes blinked and he refocused his gaze.  “Len,” he said, alarmed.

            “Just relax, Barry, I’ll explain later, it’s fine,” Len said.

            “Barry?” Lisa said.

            “Lisa,” Len said, letting out a long breath.

            “ _Barry is the Flash?_ ”

            “Len, th-that hurts,” Barry said, pushing at his hands as he cleaned away blood, trying to see if anything was lodged in the skin.

            “I know, Scarlet, I need you to let me see.”

            “You’re _dating_ the _Flash?_ ”

            “Lisa, this is not the time!” Len snapped, whipping around for a second.

            “Cute little Barry Allen is _the Flash?_ ”

            “Oh my God,” Len muttered, closing his eyes for a moment to push away the rising irritation.  He focused again on Barry, eyes raking over the wound, a large, somewhat deep, cut across the right side of his stomach.  After a moment he started pulling off his shirt.  He was wearing a button down over a T-shirt, and once off he started tearing the button down to wrap over Barry’s stomach.

            “Ah,” Barry said, mouth twisting, hands grabbing at Len’s as he pressed down.

            “I can’t believe you –” Lisa started, but Len wasn’t listening.

            “Barry,” he said, forcing his tone to go calm, “I need to hold this in place.  I know it hurts.”

            Barry just cringed at him, shaking now, and Len locked eyes with him, not looking away, trying to steady him.

            “It’s OK,” he said, “you’re OK.”

            “I am going to kill you once we get home,” Lisa said.

            Len gritted his teeth.  “I told you to get out.”

            “Yep, going to kill you,” Lisa continued, but then Len found her kneeling next to him.  Len looked over at her and she was looking Barry up and down, eyes going over the various injuries.  She turned back to him, eyes serious.  “What can I do?”

            Len let out a breath of relief.  “Hold this,” he said, nodding down to Barry’s stomach.  Barry whimpered when he did, eyes looking betrayed at him.

            “It’s OK,” Len said, waiting as Lisa’s hands covered his own before he slipped them out.  Len fumbled through the first aid kit for a moment, finding gauze and tape. 

            He moved over to Barry’s other side, but when he reached forward Barry flinched.

            “It’s OK,” he said again, reaching slowly this time, “I’m just going to put this against your forehead, OK?”

             Barry flinched away again, eyes closing but Len gently placed the gauze against his head and taped it in place.

              “Let’s get you lying down, OK?” he said, more to himself at this point.  Barry was leaning against a wall, and Len gently shifted him down and to the side, so he was lying on his back.  He was trying to get pressure off his ribs, so he could breathe better, and to lower his heart in relation to the stomach wound which was still oozing blood.

            “He needs a hospital,” Lisa said beside him.

            “His team at Star Labs is on their way,” Len said.  His hand was now in Barry’s, his other hand over Barry’s head, carefully missing the wound on his forehead.  There wasn’t much more he could do.  Not right now, anyway.  He cringed.  This wasn’t going to be a fun trip to Star Labs.

            “Len,” Barry said, gasping.  “Wha- what… sti-stitches?”

            Len sighed.  “Just relax, Scarlet, Caitlin will take care of it.”

            Barry’s face contracted.  “I don’t… wa-ant…”

            “I know,” Len said, smiling sadly.  “It’s OK.  You’re going to be OK.  I’ll be there the whole time.”

            Barry grimaced again, fear lighting up in his eyes.  “N-no…”

            Len held his hand and kept running his fingers through his hair until Caitlin and Cisco arrived, with the van about ten minutes later.  Getting Barry loaded into the van was a struggle, but Barry did pretty well throughout it.  He mostly just squeezed his eyes shut and gripped down on Len’s hand so hard he was sure there would be a bruise while Cisco and Caitlin got him onto a stretcher and then into the van.  Every move jolted Barry and caused him more pain, and he was still disorientated.  Caitlin quickly confirmed that he had at least a moderate concussion.  Len handed Lisa the keys and rode in the back with Barry.  Caitlin flitted around him, checking for injuries they might have missed, and Len muttered soothing words to Barry while Cisco drove.  By the time they got Barry back into Star labs there were tears running haphazardly, silently down his face, Barry not making a sound anymore, just tensing up, all his muscles tight as he shut down against the pain.

            He only opened his eyes again when Caitlin was wheeling him down the hall in Star Labs.  His eyes found Len’s for a moment.

            “My room?” he asked, his voice rasping.  His eyes flitted over to Caitlin.

            Caitlin tensed.  “I need to take a look at you in the cortex first.”

            Barry’s face crumpled.  “P-please.”

            “I’ll move you to your room as soon as I can,” Caitlin said, “but I have to get some stuff from there anyway.”

            Barry whimpered, and Len gave his hand a squeeze.  He squeezed back, looking back over at Len.  Len just gave him a reassuring smile, another squeeze of his hand.  Barry closed his eyes again, tensing as Cisco wheeled him on the stretcher into the cortex.

            “OK,” Caitlin said as Cisco finally came to a stop.  She was pulling on new gloves, a suture set already open that Len could see on the table next to her, but which was blocked from Barry’s view.

            Barry whimpered as she started gently unwrapping the ripped pieces of cloth that Len had put over the wound.  He was still bleeding from it.  Caitlin carefully took the cloth off, and then started cleaning away blood with a damp towel.  Barry hissed when she touched him, squirming.

            “You’re doing great,” Len said, still holding his hand.  He realized then that Lisa was there too now, must have followed them back and come in.  She was standing a little off to the side, watching with a grimace on her face.  Len turned his attention back to Barry, who was now looking up at him fearfully.  “It’s OK,” Len said, almost immediately, just a reaction now to Barry in fear.

            “H-hu-urts,” Barry stuttered, flinching when the wash cloth touched him again.

            “I know,” Len said, “you’re doing great.  It’s alright.”

            “It looks like a clean tear,” Caitlin said.  She started pressed gauze over the wound.  Len frowned.  When Caitlin took a few steps away, going over to a table he leaned down and ran a hand through Barry’s hair once more.

            “I’ll be right back,” he said.  Barry’s eyes shot wide, panicked, but Len shushed him.  “It’s OK.  Two seconds, Scarlet.  I’ll be right back.”  Barry wouldn’t let go of his hand and he looked around, saw Lisa, and then beckoned her over.  Before she could say anything he took her hand and brought it down next to Barry’s, pulling his away and then putting Barry’s hand in Lisa’s. 

            Barry looked confused for a second, but Lisa gave his hand a squeeze and then he gripped back.

            “Len,” he said, but Len just gave him another smile.

            “Lisa’s right here with you.  She won’t let anything happen to you.  I’ll be right back.  Thirty seconds, Scarlet – that’s all I need.  Right back.”  He gave him one more reassuring smile and then quickly turned and made his way to Caitlin, coming up on her side.

            “His stomach needs stitches,” he said.

            “Yes,” she answered, and he was surprised.

            “Then why did you just bandage it up again?  He –”

            “I need to wash out his leg,” she said, “before it heals with all that dirt and gravel still in it.  He won’t bleed out, he regenerates blood cells faster than he’s losing blood.  Right now, the priority is to make sure he heals correctly, and that means getting his leg sorted out.  I’ll put the stitches in afterwards.”  She looked back at Barry for a second.

            “It’s a long cut,” Len said quietly, a cringe starting on his face.

            Caitlin sighed.  “It’s going to be painful for him,” she said softly, “and it’s going to need a lot.  It won’t be over fast.”

            “There’s nothing you can give him?”  Even as he asked he already knew the answer.  Caitlin shook her head.

            “I’ll bring him back to his room, and we’ll get him comfortable.  I can’t wait a long time, but he can have breaks.  I think this might be better to get done all in one go though.  He’s a little out of it with the concussion.  It might be best to try to get it done while he’s still somewhat disorientated.”

            Len let out a long breath.  “Ah, great,” he said, closing his eyes for a second.

            “Barry,” Caitlin said, turning and going back over to him, “I’m going to wash out your leg now.”  Len grimaced.

 

 

 

            “Stitches?”

            Barry’s voice was so confused, so fearful and pained.  Len’s throat tightened even more.

            “Yeah, Scarlet.  Caitlin’s gonna do her best to get it done fast.”

            Barry was trembling now.  Washing out his leg had been rough.  It wasn’t about to get any better.

            “It’s… it’s gonna hurt a lot, isn’t i-it?” Barry said, and it seemed he was really just now realizing this, searching Len’s face and finding that look there, the expression that told him Len was glossing over things.

            “I won’t lie,” he said, his stomach curling, “It’s gonna be rough, Scarlet.”  He fought to keep his voice even, not wanting to scare Barry anymore.  He gently rubbed circles with his thumb over the back of his hand.

            “How many?”

            “I don’t know, Barry,” Len said, and then, like trying to amend it, “you can have breaks.”

            Barry trembled, eyes glazed over, gripping his hand.  His forehead was covered in sweat, and Len brushed his hair back.  Caitlin came over with the kit.

            “Can you look over at me, Scarlet?” Len asked.

            He was a little surprised when Barry listened, turning his head to the side, eyes locking on Len, even if they still had that glazed look.

            “I’m going to start, Barry,” Caitlin said, “just hold still the best you can for me.  Tell me if you need a break.”

            Barry tensed suddenly, a short cry coming from his mouth.  He closed his eyes, teeth clenched together.

            “Easy,” Len said, “you’re alright.  It’s alright.”

            “Hu-urts.”

            “I know, Scarlet.  You’re doing great.”

            He watched Caitlin make another stitch, grimaced just a bit more.  But when Barry opened his eyes he forced his face to go neutral again.  When Barry tried to move to look down he cupped the side of his face.

            “Eyes on me, Scarlet,” Len said, and Barry looked at him again, another tear running down his face.

            “It hurts, Len,” Barry said, hand crushing his.

            “I know,” Len said softly, combing his fingers through Barry’s hair.  “Just keep looking right at me.  You’re going to stay here right with me now.”

            Barry cried, tears running down his face, but he was silent now, just shaking.  He started to go pale, and then the shaking got worse, uncontrollable, almost vibrating.  Except he wasn’t vibrating, and this was worse, the muscles in his legs erupting in spasms until the whole bed was creaking with the noise the movement was causing.

            “Easy,” he said, cupping the side of Barry’s face again.  With a shock he felt Barry’s cheek, the skin ice cold.

            “C-c-can’t s-s-stop,” Barry stuttered, teeth almost chattering with the force of his trembling.

            “Just try to take deep breaths,” Len said.  As of then Barry was breathing fast and shallow, and he was getting paler by the second.

            “Barry,” Caitlin said, and suddenly she was next to Len but Barry didn’t respond, didn’t move.  His eyes were glazed over, looking just above Len’s shoulder at nothing.  Caitlin took one look at him and then had one hand against his forehead, the other gentle on his arm.  “Barry, can you check in with me?  Can you look at me for just a second?”

            Barry’s only movement was a flick of his eyes, focused back on Len again.  Then suddenly his bottom lip was trembling and Len couldn’t help it.  He reached out again, hand on the side of his face, ignoring the icy feel of his skin, clammy and cold.  He was sweating.

            “It’s alright,” Len said, “you’re OK.  It’s OK.”

            His eyes were bloodshot, red around the corners where water was welled up, tearstains across his face and Jesus, Len had never seen him so pale before.

            “Barry,” Caitlin said, “can you tell me what day it is?”

            Barry didn’t move this time, didn’t do anything, just locked eyes with Len and wouldn’t look away.  His breathing got worse, went faster, shallower.  A monitor started beeping.

            “He’s going into shock,” Caitlin said, and Len tore his eyes away from Barry to look over at her.  “Try and get him to talk to you,” she said, “I can’t wait much longer on his leg.  I need to make sure this isn’t the concussion.  Cisco – get me another blanket.”

            She was back a second later with a flashlight, shining it in Barry’s eyes.  At first he just blinked, confused, and then he flinched back, turning away.

            “Barry, I need to see your eyes for just a minute,” she said.  He pulled away and Len grabbed his other hand, pulling them both in close in his hands.  Barry leaned as far away as he could, eyes shut tightly, a whine stuck in his throat.

            “Barry,” Len said, as gently as he could, “let Caitlin check your eyes out.  It doesn’t hurt.  She doesn’t have to even touch you for it.  Just look over here at me, OK?  Come on, look at me.”

            Barry moved back slowly, opened his eyes, and blinked away when Caitlin shined the light in them, but she managed to get it done.  Cisco came up behind him and gently placed a blanket around his shoulders.  Len pulled it farther into place, smoothing it over Barry’s arms, but Barry hardly seemed to notice.

            “Dilation’s normal, concussion shouldn’t be the cause – he’s going into shock.”

            Caitlin grimaced, taking another look at where she had started the stitches, not even a tenth of the way done yet.

            “Barry,” she said, and when he didn’t respond she kept going, “Barry, I have to start again, OK?  I can’t wait too long.  But if you need a break, let me know and I’ll stop again, OK?”  He looked vaguely at her for a second, and then back at Len, a horrible cringe on his face now, terrified.  Len figured that at least he registered what she said then, but it didn’t make it easier to watch.

            “You’re OK,” Len repeated, firmly this time, like if he believed it enough it would work for the both of them.  “Just relax, Scarlet.  Take some deep breaths.  Eyes stay on me.”

            His bottom lip was trembling again, and when Caitlin put the stitch in he jerked and yelped, eyes welling up with tears before spilling over as he clenched them tightly shut.

            “Try to stay still,” Len said, “you’re doing great.  Breathe, Scarlet.  Take deep breaths.”

            Barry whined low in his throat as Caitlin continued, head turned sharply to one side.  He was back to crushing Len’s to the point of sincerely painful.  Len didn’t say anything about it.

            “You’re OK,” he said instead, “you’re OK.  You’re doing great.”

            His breathing turned labored, loud and way too fast.  Len couldn’t stop the deep frown on his face now as he ran his fingers through Barry’s hair.

            “Barry, you gotta breathe, Scarlet.  You gotta breathe slower.”

            But Barry either wasn’t listening or wasn’t registering it because he kept right on hyperventilating, gasping.  He did that for a few more minutes, Len repeating the same phrases the entire time until he started to go still.  He was still shaking, but otherwise he had stopped moving for the most part, and he was just as pale as before.  His eyes weren’t focused on anything anymore.

            “Scarlet, talk to me,” Len said, but Barry didn’t say anything.  Len brought a hand up in front of his eyes and he didn’t flinch.  “Barry, it’s Len,” he said, quickly this time, almost desperately, fighting to keep it out of his voice, “it’s Len, you’re at Star Labs.  It’s OK.  Everything’s OK.”  And for a second panic gripped Len.  Barry thought he was back there, thought he was back and Len couldn’t stand the thought of it, couldn’t stand the thought of Barry going through that again.  “Scarlet, it’s Ok, it’s Len, you’re at Star Labs, breathe, Scarlet, Barry, please, you’ve gotta breathe, Red.”

            Barry’s head moved, but his eyes didn’t focus, were aimed more at his shoulder.  Len figured his vision had blacked out again. 

            “It’s me,” Len said, holding his hand with both of his now, “it’s Len.”  Barry just kept staring at nothing, whimpering and flinching every few seconds.  Another few minutes passed and Barry had his eyes squeezed shut, a tight grimace over his face, head leaned back against the pillows, neck straining, the muscle there popping out.  A strained noise started in his throat, and his breathing was jagged now, gasps and pants.  Len didn’t know if that was better or worse, was just glad it wasn’t so shallow anymore.

            He opened his eyes suddenly, looking right at Len and Len knew his vision was back at least.  He let out a sob, and squeezed tighter on his hand.  It deteriorated from there, until Barry was sobbing harshly, eyes screwed shut most of the time, only opening them for a few seconds to look at Len, just enough of a glance for Len’s stomach to twist in half and sink.  Caitlin was getting close to the end when he suddenly heaved forward, so violently that Caitlin jumped, and Cisco moved to restrain him, but then he started hacking, and then suddenly he was vomiting and Len wasn’t fast enough and wound up with some of it on his jeans and shoes.  He hardly noticed though, because Barry was still gagging, dry heaving, and the way it racked his body it must have been painful.

            “Shh, it’s OK.  Easy, it’s OK.  You’re OK,” Len said, because there was nothing else for him to say, and when Barry finally leaned back down on the bed he looked exhausted, sweat dripping down his face, wetting his hair.  Len couldn’t tell what was tears and what was sweat now.  Caitlin paused long enough for her and Cisco to get the worst of the mess cleaned up and to give Barry a moment and then she was back and Barry saw her come back and then burst out crying.

            “It’s alright,” Len said, but Barry didn’t say anything, just shook his head, rocking back and forth now.  Caitlin started again and he screamed.  It was loud and sudden and harsh and the first time he had actually screamed since she had started.  It died in a whimpering cry and then he was just crying and gasping in breath and groaning again.  But he didn’t fight them, and he didn’t say a word.

            When Caitlin finally finished, she got everything out of the way, bandaged up the wound, and then apologized at least ten times before putting in an IV.  Barry just turned away and cried.  And Barry didn’t stop crying for at least twenty minutes after that, still trembling and looking terrified even though Len and Caitlin and Cisco assured him over and over again that it was all done, that he could relax, that they were just waiting for it to heal now.  His head didn’t require stitches so Caitlin had bandaged it up after using some disinfectant.

            “Barry,” Len said softly, “I need to talk with Caitlin for a minute, OK?”

            Barry’s eyes widened, but he hadn’t said anything since they stopped and he didn’t say anything then.  It was about a half hour later, Barry had just finally stopped crying, and Len had piled blankets around him, but despite that, he was still shaking, shivering like he was cold now.

            “I’ll be right back,” Len said, and Barry let out a scared whine, shaking his head, gripping hard on his hand again. “Right back,” Len said, carefully detangling his hand.

            “I’ll stay,” Lisa said, stepping up from behind him.  She had hung back the entire time, watching with growing concern, the frown on her face deepening the whole time.

            He didn’t have to say anything to her this time.  She took Barry’s hand from him and moved over, sitting on the edge of the bed Barry lay on.  She smiled at him, putting her other hand gently on his leg.  “I’ll keep you company until Lenny comes back, OK?”

Barry looked weary, but Len gave him a meaningful look.  “I’ll be right back,” he said.  And he got up and walked across the room to where Caitlin was sifting through something on a tablet.

            “How’s he look?” Len asked.

            Caitlin grimaced.  “Well, everything’s healing fine.  As far as I can tell he’s still in shock and that combined with the stress and trauma is why he’s acting like he is.  The concussion looks like it’s healing fine.  They heal slowly anyway, so it could take anywhere from a couple hours to about a day to heal completely.  Physically, give him a few hours and he’ll be fine.”

            Len took a deep breath.  “Can I take him home, then?” he asked.  Caitlin hesitated, and Len pushed forward.  “If physically he’s OK, then he’ll do a lot better at his home then he will here.”

            “Let me keep him on the IV for another twenty minutes,” Caitlin said after another pause.  “I need to see him tomorrow morning to take the stitches out, but yes, you can take him home.”


	26. You're Alive!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I tried to write fluff and ended up with angst. There seems to be a reoccurring theme here.

Lisa drove.  Len sat in back with Barry.  He still walked like he was in a daze, and he still looked slightly terrified of everything.  They went back to Len and Lisa’s because Len didn’t know if Joe West was home and now was not the time to be having that conversation.  So they went back to their house, and Len led Barry into his bedroom, where he got him to lie back down, tucking blankets in around him as he shivered.

            “It’s OK now,” Len said softly, “you’re OK, Scarlet.  Just relax.”  He got Barry some water before getting into bed next to him, sitting up against the headboard.  To his surprise, Barry curled into his side, leaning his head against Len’s chest, hands grabbing at his shirt loosely.

            “Do you want anything?” Len asked.  “Water?”

            Barry nodded against him.  When Len started to move off the bed though, Barry grabbed on tighter suddenly and whimpered.  His head shot up, his eyes blown wide, and he looked terrified.

            “Hey, what’s wrong?” Len asked, stopping, sliding a hand around Barry’s back.  Barry shuddered and when Len leaned back down he fell in against him.  “Don’t want to be alone?” he asked.  Barry nodded again.  “OK,” Len said.  He stretched out to reach for his phone, and then sent a text to Lisa, feeling a little ridiculous about texting when she was just in the other room, but he apparently couldn’t get up, and he was afraid if he yelled it would scare Barry. 

            A minute later Lisa came in.  Barry startled at the sound of the door opening, but relaxed again, looked grateful when she handed him a water bottle.

            Lisa left, Barry drank some, and Len held him, keeping himself nice and calm because he knew Barry fed off the anxiety of those around him.  Even if it was really freaking Len out how Barry was acting. 

            “Do you want anything to eat?” Len asked.  Barry shook his head.  “Anything else at all?”  He shook his head again.  “Not even someone else.  Iris?”

            Barry hesitated.  Then he nudged his way more firmly into his side, head going down, so the blanket covered over his neck.

            “Don’t wanna leave?” Len guessed.  Barry nodded.  “OK,” Len said, “I’ll give her a call later, OK?”

            Barry started to tremble a little, and Len frowned, moving a hand to slide over his back in soothing circles.

            “Do you need me to call her now?” Len asked.  Barry shook his head and Len sighed.  “I could give her the address.  If you really want her to come over.”  Barry hesitated, but shook his head again.  Len was a little relieved.  He didn’t really want a reporter at one of his apartments, but if that’s what Barry needed he’d do it.  When Barry didn’t stop trembling he let out a breath, and well, Barry knew the location now, why not Iris too?  “I can give her a call, Scarlet,” Len said, “it’s not a problem.  I can have her come here, so you don’t have to go anywhere.”

            But Barry shook his head, and then Len frowned.  He kept rubbing Barry’s back, but he didn’t calm down, just kept trembling, pushing his face into Len’s chest and the pillow he was leaning against.

            “Scarlet, what’s wrong?” Len asked, his voice soft, but he didn’t get an answer.  “It’s OK now,” he tried.  “You’re all done.  Caitlin doesn’t have to do anything else.  I know it still hurts but it’ll stop real soon, I promise.”

            Barry shuddered, and Len felt his shirt get damp and realized that Barry was crying.  He blinked at the realization, hand stuttering to a stop for a second, before he quickly picked back up with the circles on his back.

            “It’s OK, Barry.  You’re safe,” he said, his voice soft, soothing.  “You’re OK.  Everything’s OK.  We’re at my apartment, in bed.  You just relax now, OK?  I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.  It’s OK now.  It’s safe.  I promise, Barry, you’re safe now.”

            Barry shook his head, and he was pressing his forehead so hard into Len’s chest that it was starting to hurt, but Len didn’t say anything.

            “It’s OK now,” Len said softly.

 

 

            He fell asleep sometime later, and Len tried to extricate himself, but when he moved his arms Barry shifted and mumbled in his sleep and Len was afraid of what he’d do if he woke up without Len there.  So he called Lisa again and got her to bring him a book, and well, he was meaning to finish reading it anyway.

            Lisa gave him a pointed look when she came in.  Her eyes shifted to Barry and then back.

            “We are having a very long conversation about this later,” she said, but her voice was low so as not to wake him.

            “Wasn’t my secret to tell,” Len said.  Lisa just rolled her eyes and left.

            It was getting dark when his phone started to ring.  He picked it up quickly, before it could wake Barry up.

            “Hello?”

            “Len?  It’s Iris.”

            Len looked at the clock, quickly, and wondered if anyone had informed Iris and Detective West of what had happened.

            “Is Barry with you?”

            “Uh, yeah,” Len said, “Did Caitlin or Cisco –”

            “They said he got hurt – that it was bad this time.”

            “Yeah,” Len said, cringing, looking back over at Barry.  His chest was rising and falling rhythmically now.  “He got pretty beat up.  It wasn’t pretty.”

            “Is he staying with you tonight?”

            Was he?  Len had never stayed the night with him before, aside from when they were getting Mardon.  He always left when Barry fell asleep, but he couldn’t exactly do that when he was at Len’s apartment.

            “I don’t want to wake him,” Len said instead.

            “How is he?”

            Len took in a long breath.  He ran one hand absently through Barry’s hair.  “He’s sleeping now, but… not good.”

            She asked a few more questions, and Len promised to call her with an update the next day, and tell her when he was bringing Barry back to the West’s house.  He hung up after that, and a little while later Barry started to move.

            He turned in his sleep, and then started to fidget a little.  A minute later his eyes blinked open.

            “Hey,” Len said, trying for a smile as Barry blinked and his eyes focused on him.

            “Hey,” Barry said, his voice tired and a little rough but Len was just elated he was speaking again.

            Barry turned some more, looking around, and then frowned.  A crease of fear entered his expression, and he pushed a little more firmly against Len.

            “Where are we?” he asked.

            Len’s throat tightened.  “We’re at my apartment,” he said, “you’ve been out for a while.  I can take you back to your place if you want though.”

            Barry kept looking around.  More fear seeped into his expression, and then confusion, followed by a wince of pain as he shifted.

            “What happened?” he asked.  His voice was slow, and he was gripping Len’s shirt now with one hand.

            “You don’t… you got hurt, Scarlet.”  He paused, and chose his words carefully as he continued, watching Barry’s reactions as he spoke.  “We took you to Star,” he said slowly, “and Caitlin patched you up.  You went into shock, so you were a little out of it.  And then I brought you here, and we just stayed here on the bed until you fell asleep.”  He watched Barry but his expression didn’t change much.  “Do you remember that, Scarlet?”

            Barry frowned.  He pressed his face into Len’s side.  “A little?” he mumbled.  He looked back up, forehead creasing.  “It… it hurt,” he said, and he shivered.  One of his hands snaked down to touch his side.  “You… stitches?”

            “Yeah, you got yourself a nasty cut there,” Len said carefully.  Then he paused again.  “Can you… can you tell me the date, Scarlet?”

            Barry blinked.  “It’s… Tuesday?”

            “Yeah,” Len said, “do you know what month?”

            He frowned.  “Um… March?”

            “Yeah,” Len said, letting out a breath.  “How do you feel?”

            Barry shuddered.  “Shaky,” he said, “it still hurts… a little, anyway.  I don’t… I don’t really remember what happened.  Is… why… why can’t I remember?”

            “You went into shock,” Len said, “and you had – probably still have – a concussion.”

            “I feel kind of sick,” Barry said, his frown deepening.  He shifted a little, and winced.  “My leg really hurts,” he said.  “Can I have some ice?”

            “Is that OK for you?  With your healing?”

            “Yes?”

            “I’ll call Caitlin.”

            “No, that’s OK,” Barry said, too fast, “I just – I just won’t.”

            “Barry,” Len said gently, “I’m just going to call to ask if you can have ice.  That’s it.”

            Barry shook his head, looking scared.  “No, it’s OK,” he said, “It’s – it’s fine.”

            Len paused, looking at him.  “OK,” he said, putting the phone down from where he had grabbed it.  Barry sunk down in relief.  Len frowned, but if it was going to distress him that much then what was the point of getting ice to make him feel better?

            He took a look at Barry and for the first time seemed to realize that there was still blood on the side of his face, mostly hidden by his hairline.

            “Do you want to take a shower?” Len asked.  “Get cleaned up a little?”

            Barry just looked at him, blinked.  “I… I didn’t bring any clothes…”

            “I can give you some sweatpants and a T-shirt.”

            “OK,” Barry said, but he didn’t move.

            Len got up slowly, and after a moment Barry followed him, trailing closely behind.

            “There’s one right here,” Len said, pointing to the bathroom off of his room.  He opened the door up for him.

            Barry nodded, and then frowned, and stepped in almost gingerly.  He stopped, hesitating, and looked back at Len.

            “Do you want me to stay?”

            Barry froze, and then gave a hesitant nod, but then didn’t move to let Len in.

            “How about I just stay right here,” Len said, dragging over the desk chair and placing it against the open door of the bathroom, grabbing his book as well, “and I’ll leave the door open?”

            Barry nodded then, looking more comfortable now.  He disappeared behind the door and Len looked ahead, away from the bathroom.  He heard the water go on, but didn’t hear Barry getting out of his clothes.  After a couple minutes he frowned and turned halfway around.

            “Barry?  You OK?”

            “Yeah,” Barry said, the reply muffled.

            Len settled back into the chair.  Maybe he had just missed the noise.  Barry didn’t sound particularly distressed, like he was lying when he answered, so Len opened up his book.

            About ten minutes later though, Barry’s voice came through again.

            “Can I, um – can I borrow those clothes?”

            Len put the book down.  “Yeah, give me a second.”  He found the smallest pair of sweatpants he owned, and a T-shirt.

            “Can I come in?” he asked, stopping outside the door.

            There was another hesitation.  “Y-yeah.”

            Len paused, but then walked in.  He looked around the corner of the doorway to find Barry, face red and staring at the ground, scratching at the back of his neck.  His hair was wet, and there were water droplets on his arms, but besides his socks which were now on the floor, he was fully dressed.

            Len just stood there for a moment, confused, wondering why Barry had put his clothes back on when Len had just got him clean ones when Barry was stammering.

            “I – I don’t like… after – on the table… I don’t… it’s not all the time, it’s just – just after stuff… after… when it’s bad, and then I – I um, I don’t like to be – to be naked.  Just – just sometimes after it’s bad, because… because on the table, and I… yeah.”

            “OK,” Len said, confused, and a little surprised, but he kept his face carefully neutral.

            Barry glanced up at him, face still red.  He gestured with his hands vaguely.  “I just… you know, I wash my hair – in the spray – and then… then I just – one by one, so I’m not – so I don’t have to get all the way undressed.”

            “That’s fine, Barry,” Len said.  He placed the clothes down on the sink counter.  “I’ll just leave these here.  Let me know if you need anything else.”

            “Thank you,” Barry said, his voice quiet.

            “It’s not a problem, Scarlet,” Len said, “I’ll be right outside the door.”

            Once Len was outside he sunk down into his chair, and he closed his eyes, letting the tension run into his body now, for just a minute.

 

 

 

 

            When Barry finally got done with his sort-of-shower he walked out shivering and hugging his arms around himself.

            “Can I have a sweatshirt?” he asked.

            Len just got up and retrieved one before handing it to him.

            “Thanks,” Barry said, pulling it on quickly.  He looked much more comfortable once he had it on.

            “Are you feeling better now?” Len asked.  He raised his hand a few inches, then let it drop again, the surprising urge to put a hand on Barry’s back present.

            “Yeah,” Barry said, but he looked away after he said it.

            Len frowned.  “Maybe not quite?”

            Barry kept staring at the ground, and then he shook his head.

            “That’s OK,” Len said, and then he did reach out, placing his hand on Barry’s back, waiting to see if he moved away, but he didn’t.  “Do you want to go home?  I can drive you.”

            Barry hesitated again, looked over at the clock.  “I…” he said, “I don’t want to overstay… you’ve already… thank you – for – for bringing me back here.  For helping me.”

            “Don’t worry about it, Scarlet,” Len said, his voice soft.  “And you can stay if you want to.  It’s OK.”

            Barry shuddered.  “I… I don’t think I’m ready to leave yet,” he said quietly.

            “OK,” Len said, “do you want to sleep some more?  Watch some TV?”

            Barry nodded, and he moved to get back into bed, but when Len walked towards the door to the hallway he froze.

            Len paused.  “You can come with me,” Len said, “I was just grabbing some food.  You should eat something.”

            Barry followed after him, staying right behind him, not letting him more than five feet away.  He looked around as they walked to the kitchen, looking half-curious and half-afraid, like he was waiting for something to jump out at him, but Len figured that was more of him being jumpy after the injuries then being scared in Len’s house.

            Lisa was in the living room watching TV.  She looked up when they entered, smiling.

            “You’re alive!” she said.  Barry started, looking shocked and confused as to Lisa’s presence.  He shot a glance at Len.  “So, the Flash is a scrawny CSI, who woulda known?” Lisa continued.

            “Lisa,” Len said, just as Barry shot an alarmed look at Len.

            “You told her I was the Flash?” he said, disbelieving.

            The room fell silent.  Barry looked between the two, sensing something was wrong besides the fact that Lisa seemed to somehow know his identity now.

            “Barry,” Len said, his voice steady, careful.  “Lisa was with me when we found you after the fight.  She followed us back to Star Labs.  Do you remember that?”

            Barry just looked at him.  He slowly shook his head no.  He started to tremble.

            Len moved a little closer, and took both his arms in his hands, running up and down, speaking calmly.  “She was with me when you got hurt, and I didn’t have time to get her to leave, so she came with me, and she found out you were the Flash.  I didn’t mean for her to, and I’m sorry.  She –”

            “I won’t tell anyone,” Lisa cut in, “you’re secret’s safe, Flash, really.  Scout’s honor.”

            But Barry was shaking his head.  “I – I don’t r-remember.”

            “We went back to Star,” Len said.  “She held your hand while I had to talk to Caitlin.  She drove us here.”

            Barry looked up at him, eyes wide, shocked.  “I don’t remember driving here,” he said.

            “You were really out of it,” Len said.  “You have a concussion, remember, Scarlet.  And you went into shock while we were at Star.  You might remember more later when the concussion is fully healed.”

            “Right,” Barry said, still shaking, “yeah, I just… yeah.”

            “Let me grab that food,” Len said, going for the first thing he could find – bread and peanut butter and jelly.  He grabbed that, along with more water and a couple of plates and knives, and then steered Barry back into the bedroom.  He got him back on the bed.  He was looking a little pale again.  

            “It’s OK, Barry,” Len said, “memory loss is normal.”

            “Yeah, no, I know,” Barry said, absently rubbing at his arms, “I just… I just don’t like it.”

            Len nodded, making sandwiches.  He placed one in front of Barry.  Barry looked at it, and then picked at the bread a little.

            “You need to eat something,” Len said.

            Barry just kept picking at the bread, nibbling off a couple of pieces.

            “Come on, Barry, at least one sandwich.  Just take a bite.”

            Barry took one halfhearted bite.  When Len kept looking at him expectantly Barry just gave him a miserable face.

            “You’ll feel better once you get something in your stomach,” Len said.

            “No, I won’t,” Barry mumbled, but he took another bite.  He started picking at it again, but this time picking at it consisted of the occasional nibble so Len let it go.  Barry looked up and his eyes wandered to the clock.  It was getting late.  He looked over at Len, and then down, picking at the sandwich, face already heating up a little bit.  “Could I, um,” he started.  Len turned towards him.  Barry kept staring downwards.  “Could I stay here tonight?”

            “Sure,” Len said.

            “I – I’m sorry,” Barry said, “for, you know, and you –”

            “It’s not a problem, Barry.”

            “Thank you,” Barry said, his voice quiet.

            “Whatever makes it easier for you,” Len said.

            Barry was quiet for a minute, and then he moved a little closer to Len, his voice quiet, and shaky.  “There… there were a lot of stitches this time.”

            Len sighed.  “Yeah, it was rough.”

            Barry shuddered, and Len felt him tense up and stay tensed.  “It… i-it hurt… a lot.  Like really a lot.  I know… it always hurts a lot, but stitches… they’re not usually… it’s not usually that ba-ad.”

            “It’s all done now,” Len said, “It was a long cut.  You got through it.  You’re OK.”

            “It… I – I don’t remember it all…”

            “You went into shock.”

            “I… I was crying a lot.”  His face went red.

            “You were in a lot of pain,” Len said, “and you were scared.  It’s OK.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “You don’t need to apologize.”

            “I… I know, but I…”

            “You feel like you have to?”

            Barry nodded, but he took in a deep breath and his forehead creased.  He opened his mouth, closed it, and then started trembling.

            “You don’t have to though,” Len said, continuing instead, “you don’t need to apologize.  None of this is your fault.  None of it, OK?”

            “It’s just, I… I have to…”  Barry’s eyes were getting glassy again and Len shushed him.

            “You don’t have to do anything.  It’s alright.”

            But Barry shook his head, his movements fidgety, almost restless.  “I have to be good.”  His voice was quiet, but there was an earnestness there that scared Len.

            Len was quiet for a moment.  “Who told you that, Scarlet?”

            “They… I… I just… no one, but… if I…”  He trailed off, shook his head.

            “You don’t need to be anything,” Len said, angry now, upset.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  “You are good.  You’re plenty good.  You did great, Scarlet, did fine.  You don’t need to be good for anyone.  You just focus on you, OK?  On getting better.”

            “I have to be good or it gets worse,” Barry said.  And there was so much fear there.  He said it in a whisper, like it was a secret.  “It always get’s worse.”  He trembled.

            “No,” Len said, and he closed his eyes, hugged Barry close to him all of a sudden, pushing him in towards his chest until his jaw was resting on top of Barry’s head.  “No, Scarlet.  You don’t need to do anything for us.  They can’t hurt you anymore, Scarlet.  They won’t hurt you anymore – there’s no one to be good for anymore, no one who will make it worse for you.  I promise.  I promise, it’s safe now.”

            Barry kept shaking.  “If I’m good you won’t hold me down.  I don’t like being held down, Len, I – it scares me, it – I hate it, I don’t want to be held down, and if – if I’m good you don’t, but I can’t, and I – I want to, but I can’t, it hurts and I can’t and then you grab my hands and I’m scared and you don’t listen, no one _listens_ –”

            He was crying, sobbing against Len.  Len just held him, shushing him, trying to get him to calm down.  He had verged almost into sounding hysterical, and took a few minutes before Len could even talk to him again.

            “Hey,” he said, “where did this come from?  We didn’t hold you down today.  It’s OK.  I know you don’t like it, but it’s OK.  I’m sorry, Scarlet.  If this is still about last time, Barry, I am so, so sorry and I –”

            “No, I just – I was scared and – and I – I don’t feel good, Len.  I – I don’t feel like me.  I don’t like this.  I – I can’t remember what happened and I don’t feel normal and I want – I want –”

            Len looked at him, expectantly.

            “I want you to hold me,” Barry said, his face flushing, but the words tumbling out anyway, “please.”

            “I can do that,” Len said.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I SWEAR I'M TRYING TO GET THEM TOGETHER IT JUST KEEPS GOING FROM ANGST TO ANGST MY BRAIN SAYS KISS AND THEN MY FINGERS SOMEHOW TYPE MORE CRYING??? ANYWAY next chapter. Next chapter Coldflash. Promise. Maybe. I probably just shouldn't promise things but I'M GONNA TRY.   
> Right. Sorry. Rant done. Thanks for reading :)


	27. I'm Proud of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whooo one more chapter! Finally finishing up! (don't worry, there's more in the series coming - already got a couple chapters done). Anyway - Barry hides, Len coerces, and I finally got that fluffy piece in.

            Barry was hiding under the blankets.  Len stood next to the bed, hand against his forehead.  He was getting a headache.

            “She just has to take the stitches out, Scarlet.”

            “ _No_.”

            “We’ll go in your room.  It’ll be fine.”

            “I’ll do it later.  I’ll go this afternoon.”

            “It has to be this morning, Barry.”

            “I’m not going.”

            “It won’t hurt.  She just has to take them out.”

            “No.”

            Len threw up his hands.  “Fine,” he said, “I’ll have her come here.”

            Barry’s head shot up, emerging from the blankets.  His eyes were wide.  “No!”

            “Barry,” Len said with a sigh.  “It won’t hurt.  It’ll be fine.  I’ll be there the whole time.”  He picked up his phone, going to call Caitlin and give her the address (why doesn’t he just tell the whole world where the safe house is at this point?) and Barry lunged.

            Len found his hand empty, and a speedster back underneath the blankets.

            “Barry!”

            “M’ not going.”

            “Barry, give me back my phone!”

            “No.”

            Len swore under his breath and stomped out to the kitchen.  Lisa looked up when he entered.

            “How goes playing nurse?”

            Len just mumbled, slamming the fridge open, getting himself a drink and another lemonade to try to coax Barry with.

            “Hmm, that great, huh?”

            Len through up his hands.  “He won’t go back to Star!”  He put the drinks on the counter and then went up to Lisa.  “Let me see your phone.”

            “Why?”

            “I need to call Caitlin.”

            “Doctor Lady?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Where’s your phone?”

            “He _stole_ it.”

            Lisa stared at him, and then she laughed, and she was still laughing when Len took the phone angrily from her, and was thankful he had written down the number as well as saving it in his phone.  Len called Caitlin, and then went back into his room.

            “She’ll be here in a half hour,” he said.

            Barry’s head popped up.  He gave him a pathetic, betrayed look.  “No,” he said, despairingly now instead of obstinate.

            “It’ll be fine,” Len said.  “She’s just going to take the stitches out.”

            Barry shook his head and brought the blankets up tight over his head again, curling in a ball under them.  Len rubbed his back through the blankets until Barry decided to come out again.

            “I’ll go later,” Barry said, “I promise.  I’ll go this afternoon.”

            “She’s already coming over,” Len said.  “She’s just taking out the stitches.  Nothing to worry about.”

            “I know, but I – it’s still scary.”

            “I know, Scarlet,” Len said, “but we’ll just get it over will now, OK?  And then it’ll be done.  It won’t be too bad.  Five minutes, and it won’t even hurt.  You’ve done it before plenty of times.”

            Barry glowered, looking equal parts angry and scared.

            “Can’t it just wait a little?  I’ll do it in an hour.”

            “I think we’ll get it done when Caitlin gets here.”

            “I could run.”

            “Barry.”

            “I could.  You can’t make me.”

            Len glared at him.  Barry looked away.

            Len sighed then.  He reached over, and rubbed a hand over Barry’s thigh, his back against the bedrest then.  “You’ll be fine,” he said, “it’ll be fine.  We’ll take deep breaths.  You don’t have to look at it, and I’ll stay right here with you.”

            Barry mumbled something, but Len didn’t hear it.  Some of the anger melted away, but he still looked just as anxious, his body tensing up at the knowledge that Caitlin was on her way there.

            She arrived about twenty minutes later.  In that time Barry had drank two bottles of water and Len had managed to coax into him half an eggo waffle.

            “Hi, Barry,” Caitlin said.  Cisco was coming in behind her.  She was carrying a first aid kit that Barry’s eyes locked onto.  He drew back up against the headboard.

            “I’m going to get your stitches out,” Caitlin said.  Barry watched as she sat down, his hands fisting in the blanket.  She moved it carefully away from him, drawing the blanket up so that it was out of her way, on his stomach.  She started unwrapping the bandages.

            “Barry,” Len said, “why don’t you look over here?”  He sat on a chair next to the bed and Barry looked up at him, alarmed.

            “Why?  She –”  He turned to Caitlin, who paused.  “You’re just taking out the stitches,” he said, rushed, “right?  That’s it, right?”  Panic edged his words, getting worse.

            “I’m just taking out the stitches,” Caitlin said, her answer calm and steady.

            “Then why –”

            “There’s a lot of them,” Len said, “I just don’t want you to get scared by it.

            “Oh…” he said.  He hesitated, and then looked over at Len, away from the stitches.

            Len smiled at him.  “There you go.  Done in a second.”

            Caitlin unwrapped the bandages, but her movements went slower as she started to see the wound.  There was a collective pause.

            “What?” Barry said, and when Len’s eyes flitted down, followed by surprise and a grimace, Barry looked down as well.

            It wasn’t healed.  The cut was still ragged, still had dried blood and scabs covering it.  And Len was right, there was a lot.  There were so many.  The wound ran all the way across his stomach and around his side, and there were so many stitches in it.  Barry started to hyperventilate.

            “You’re healing slower than usual,” Caitlin said, her voice steady even as she tried to compose herself.

            “Why?” Barry asked.  He looked from Caitlin to Len to Cisco.  “Why am I not healing like usual.  I –”  He stuttered, stopped, and vibrated his hand.  “My speed is fine,” he said, “I – I feel fine.”

            “There could be an impediment to the healing,” Caitlin said, her lips pursing together.  She took a closer look at the wound, one side to the next, trying to see any discrepancies, any areas healed better than others, but that didn’t appear to be the case.  “I’m going to take a look at your leg,” she said.  She went to it and started unwrapping the bandages there.

            “What does that mean?” Barry said, looking at Len, eyes wide.  “There – there could be something in there?”  His voice cracked.  “Like – like a bullet?  Where you have to take it out?”

            “We don’t know anything yet, Scarlet, just relax,” Len said.

            “Why isn’t it healing?” Barry said, his face tight, starting to tremble again.  Len felt his stomach sink.

            “Just take deep breaths, Barry,” Len said, “it’s going to be fine.  It’s probably nothing.”

            “It’s uniform,” Caitlin said, looking at his leg now, which was scabbed over and also still healing.  It was still much faster than the average human, but about half the speed, as far as Caitlin could tell, of Barry’s usual rate of healing.  “It might just have been the shock – or it could theoretically have been the concussion if you managed to injure certain parts of your brain.  There’s no sign of infection, but that doesn’t mean there’s not some sort of pathogen that could be causing this.  Then again, since you were in shock and then probably still dealing with the trauma for a good while… did you eat after you got back?  How much had you eaten yesterday?”

            “I… um… I had lunch?”

            Caitlin frowned.  “You need to eat more,” she said, “and we’ll run a course of antibiotics.  If it’s a minor infection, it could be that your body is fighting it off faster than it can manifest, but that’s what’s slowing you down.  If afterwards you’re not running up to speed, we’ll take an MRI, but I think the likelihood that the concussion had something to do with it is slim.”

            “Antibiotics?” Barry said, his voice small.

            Caitlin hesitated.  “I’ll need to put you on an IV,” she said, “just for a little while.  I’ll give you some fluids with nutrients too.  We can go back to Star, and go to your room, or I can bring the stuff back here.”

            “I-IV,” Barry said.  He had gone pale, and then he started shaking his head, trembling.  “No,” he said, his voice escalating fast, going high and loud, “no, please.  I – no, Cait, no.”  He looked at Len.  He was already sweating, panic climbing up his throat, his stomach turning so much he felt like he was about to throw up.  “No needles,” he said, his voice desperate, way too fast, “I can’t, not – not after – no, you can’t – you can’t do that to me, please, I can’t – please, no more needles, please don’t do any more needles –”

            “Hey, easy there,” Len said, “Scarlet, breathe.  Just breathe.”

            Barry was hyperventilating, gasping, shaking his head and trembling. “No,” he said, voice cracking, tears already in his eyes as panic took over, too quick, all at once, “I don’t want an IV – I don’t want the antibiotics, I –”

            Len reached for his hand and Barry flinched back violently.  A moment later and he was in the corner of the room, up against the wall.  His eyes were darting around, his hands drawn in close, like he was about to fend off an attack.

            “No,” he said, terrified, still looking all around.

            “Barry,” Len said, his voice very calm now.  He put his hands up, non-threateningly.  “Barry, I know you’re scared.  Let’s just calm down and breathe, OK?  No one’s doing anything right now.  Let’s just calm down and breathe.  Everything’s OK.”

            “No needles,” Barry said, “no – no –”

            “No needles,” Len said, hands up as if to show him.  “I don’t have any needles, Barry.  No one here has any needles.  Let’s just relax.  Can you do that for me, Scarlet?  Can you just breathe with me right now.”

            “No – no…” Barry trailed off, eyes still darting, before going back to Len.  “No IV?”

            “Not right now,” Len said, “no IV right now.  No needles.  Just deep breaths with me, right now, OK?  Can you do that for me, Barry?  Just take some deep breaths with me?”

            Barry paused, and then gave a hesitant nod.

            “Great, that’s great,” Len said.  He moved carefully around the bed, and then went and sat down on the ground several feet away from Barry.  Barry slowly sank down to the ground as well.  “Deep breaths,” Len said, “in like this… and then out… nice and slow.”

            Barry mimicked him, and after about five minutes was taking nice, slow, long breaths.  Len mimed them for him, and Cisco and Caitlin stayed away on the other side of the room, just watching as it unfolded.  After another few minutes Barry seemed reasonably calm.

            “OK,” Len said, his voice still nice and steady.  “Let’s just talk about this, OK?”

            Barry looked uncomfortable, then nervous, and then he shook his head.  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. His hands fisted anxiously.  “I – I’m not doing it.”  He looked across to Caitlin and Cisco.  “Not – not right now.”

            “We’re not doing anything right now,” Len said.

            “Not today,” Barry said.

            Len took in a long breath.  “I think we might have to do something today.”

            Barry shook his head.  “No.”

            “Let’s just talk about it.”

            Barry shook his head.  “I – I don’t want to talk about it.  I – no.”

            “Because you don’t want to do it,” Len said carefully, “or because it makes you nervous to talk about it?”

            “Because I’m not doing it,” Barry said, voice too loud.

            “OK,” Len said, “but it’s making you nervous to talk about it too, isn’t it?”

            Barry wouldn’t look at him, but after a minute he nodded.

            “OK,” Len said, “so let’s just slow down a little.  Nothing’s happening now, so you don’t need to worry about if you’re not doing it.  We’re just talking.  Nothing’s happening, we’re just talking.  If you get too nervous by that, we can stop and breathe again for a minute, OK?”

            “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Barry said.  He squeezed his eyes shut, a shudder wracking his frame.

            “I know,” Len said, his voice soft, “I know it’s really scary to think about, but we need to talk about it, Barry, OK?  But we can stop.  We can stop and breathe.  Can I come closer?”

            Barry shook his head, drawing back into the corner.

            “OK,” Len said quickly.  “That’s alright.  I can stay here.  That’s why I asked.  I’ll stay right here.  Can you take some more deep breaths?”

            Barry nodded, focusing on that for a couple minutes until he had settled back down some again.  His eyes kept darting to Cisco and Caitlin though.

            “Barry?” Len said.  “I have a question, and just – if we were to have you do something right now, would you want to do it here, or at Star in your room?”

            Barry watched him like he was suspicious of something.  “I don’t want to leave,” he said.  His voice was rough, almost raspy.  He tensed, waiting for something.

            “OK,” Len said.  He looked back at Caitlin and Cisco and gave them a look.  “Why don’t you guys head back to Star,” he said carefully, locking eyes with Caitlin, “while me and Barry talk.”

            “Sounds good,” Cisco said after a beat of pause.  Caitlin just nodded, and then they left.  Len was hoping they got the message, and would come back with an IV and whatever else they needed.

            He turned back to Barry, who was looking a little bit better now, eyes back on Len at least and not darting around so much.

            “Can you tell me what’s wrong with needles?” Len said.

            “I don’t want them,” Barry said, “they – you know.  They scare me.  I… I can’t – not – I’m not, right – right now.”

            “OK,” Len said, nodding, “but you seem really scared right now… more than usual.  Can you tell me why?”

            “I… yesterday,” he said.

            “With the stitches?”

            Barry nodded, trembling.

            “You wanna take another break and breathe?”

            Barry nodded.

            “OK,” Len said, “do you think you can do that by yourself – just focus on breathing- while I get you some water?”

            Barry hesitated, then nodded.

            Len came back with water, and handed it over to him, sitting a little bit closer now, but still giving Barry plenty of space.  He waited a couple minutes, until Barry was calm again, before continuing.

            “Can you tell me what’s going through your head right now?” Len asked.

            Barry was quiet for a minute.  “I… I’m scared,” he said, glancing up, then back down.

            Len nodded, waiting.

            “I…”  He swallowed.  “I’m really scared, and I… I don’t… I can’t handle that right now.”

            “Why is it scary?” Len asked.  “What are you thinking about?”

            Barry hugged his arms around himself.  “I… I’m… yesterday…”  Len waited.  Barry fidgeted.  “I keep… snippets… from the… the stitches.  It just – it hurt so much, and I was… I was confused, and scared, and I felt… I felt… spacy.  Like – like when I was there.”  He swallowed hard again.  “There were times… I just – I wasn’t all there, I don’t…”

            “Maybe drugs?” Len said carefully, “or you could have been in shock then too.  It could have felt a lot like that.”

            Barry nodded, but he was silent now, hugging his knees to his chest, staring at the ground.

            “Especially,” Len said, continuing, “if you didn’t have anyone with you, afterwards.  You were really out of it when we came back here.  That would have been really hard to go through there, all on your own.  It could make thinking about it… thinking about it now, a lot more disorientating… kind of like how you felt yesterday.”

            Barry nodded, chin on his knees now.  He was starting to tremble.

            “Need another break?” Len asked gently.

            Barry nodded.  He hid his face in his knees, trembling.  Len hesitated.  He wanted to go and put a hand on his back, touch him, show him he was there, but he was afraid of scaring him.

            “Just breathe,” Len said instead.  “It’s OK now.  You’re OK.”

            Barry nodded, not looking up for a while.  When he finally did his eyes were red and glassy.

            “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” he said, his voice thick.

            Len’s stomach twisted.  “I know,” he said, his voice gentle and quiet, “but you need to take care of yourself, Barry.  We can stop talking, but Caitlin’s going to have to give you an IV, and I –”

            “No,” Barry said, and he was shaking all over, face drawn up in a scowl-grimace that was a flimsy layer of anger with a whole lot of fear underneath.

            “Barry,” Len said, his voice still quiet and gentle, “We’ve talked about this.  You’ve talked to Iris about this.  You’re not thinking straight.  You have to take care of yourself, even when taking care of yourself is unpleasant and scares you, even when it seems impossible.  Let me help.”

            Barry deflated, slumping back down, chin on his knees, eyes staring down.  He closed them for a moment, shaking his head, trembling.

            “It’s OK,” Len said, “it’s going to be OK.  You can do it.”

            “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Barry said.  “I – I can’t think about it without – without panicking.  I – I can’t do it, Len.  I… I’m scared, and I can’t control myself, and – and it’s not going to get better, so – so I –”  He broke off, taking deep, long breaths, and then he seemed to close in on himself even more.  “Can you call Iris?”  His voice cracked, and he started shaking worse.

            “Yeah,” Len said, “I can, but, Scarlet –”

            Barry was hyperventilating.  “I can’t,” he said, “I can’t do this, Len, I –”

            “You can,” Len said, “it’s going to be fine.  It’ll be fine, Barry.”

            “No, no, I won’t do it, I –”

            “Barry,” Len said calmly, “let’s take a break.  Let’s take some deep breaths.”

            But Barry shook his head.  “I don’t wanna talk about it, I don’t wanna breathe, I don’t wanna do this, I don’t wanna talk about it any longer, I can’t.”

            “Barry,” Len said, “it’s for your health.  I know this is hard.  It’s going to be fine.  But you have to do this, you have –”

            “I know!” Barry said, “I know I have to, I know – I – I just can’t, Len, I – I can’t, you – you’ll have –”  Barry gasped, hyperventilating, and then started to cry, tears running down his face as he shook his head.  “I know I have to, I know, I’m not thinking – I can’t think – I’m – I’m panicking but I have to do it and you’ll have to make me and I don’t wanna be held down, Len, I really, really don’t wanna be held down, please don’t hold me down, please, Lenny, please.”

            “Scarlet,” Len said, his stomach sinking and feeling helpless.  He wanted to reassure him, but didn’t know how, wanted to hold him but was afraid it would scare him worse.

            Barry kept crying, shaking his head in his knees.  “I’m not gonna be able to hold still and I’m gonna panic and you’ll have to hold me down and I don’t wanna be held down, I’m scared, I’m so fucking scared of being held down, I’m so fucking scared, I’m always so, _so_ fucking scared of _everything_ and I just wanna be _safe_.”

            “Barry,” Len said, once again feeling helpless.  Barry cried bitterly into his knees.  “Scarlet,” Len said, getting a little bit closer now.  Barry didn’t seem to notice.  “Scarlet, I’m not gonna hold you down.  It’s going to be fine.  One pinch, then Cait will be done.  That’s it.  It’s going to be fine.” 

            But Barry just kept crying, not moving at all except for the shaking racking up his frame.

            “Barry, can I touch you?” Len said, shifting closer, desperate to do something.

            Barry nodded and a second later Len was next to him, in the corner of the room against the wall, one hand on Barry’s shoulder.  When he didn’t flinch back, Len drew him in towards him, and Barry crumpled against him, crying and shaking and hyperventilating and Len didn’t know if this was a panic attack or a nervous breakdown or if he was just so miserable that Barry was reduced to the sobbing shaking mess.

 

 

 

 

            By the time Caitlin and Cisco came back and made the walk from the door to Len’s bedroom, Barry was already crying.  As soon as the doorbell rang he had tensed up all over and then started hyperventilating.  And Len had just managed to get him calmed down too.

            Caitlin and Cisco came in carrying the supplies for the IV and Barry hid his face against Len’s shoulder.

            “I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to,” Barry repeated, his voice cracking, a high, shrill note to it.  He shook his head against Len, cried into his shoulder, grasping at his shirt.

            “It’s OK,” Len said, “shh, Scarlet, it’s OK.  Everything’s alright.”

            “Barry,” Caitlin said gently, “I need to put an IV in now.  Is there someplace you’d rather have it?  Your arm or your hand?”

            Barry shook his head, sobbing harshly as Len tried to calm him down.  Caitlin paused.

            “I could put it in your foot,” she said.

            Barry went quiet for a second.  His head poked up, face and eyes red, tears on his face, but confused.  “My… my foot?”

            Caitlin nodded.  “It has veins just like your hand.  If that would be easier for you, we could do that.”

            Barry hesitated, and then nodded.

            “OK,” Caitlin said.  Barry watched her lift up the blanket, and then she pulled off one of his socks.  She took out an alcohol swab and Barry tensed up.

            “Wait,” he said.  Caitlin looked up at him.  “H-how long do I have to have it in?” he asked.

            “Not too long,” Caitlin said, “You can sit with Len while I run the antibiotics and glucose through.  I’ll cover it back up with the blanket, OK?” 

            She swiped the alcohol wipe over his foot, across one of the more prominent veins there, and Barry whimpered and pulled it back.

             “Barry,” she said, “I’m going to get it done quick, OK?  But you have to hold still for me.  It’ll just be one pinch, OK?  Then it’ll all be over.”

            Barry’s face crumpled.  “No,” he said, and the tears were back, shaking.  He looked over and saw the needle in Cisco’s hand.  He whimpered, drew his foot in more.  “No, wait.”

            “Scarlet,” Len said calmly, “look over here.”

            “No,” Barry said, “no, Len, I – I’m scared wait – wait, I can’t, I’m scared, please.”  His voice got higher and higher as he spoke, more frantic.

            “Shh,” Len said, soothing, “just take deep breaths, Scarlet.  It’s OK.  Look at me.  That’s it.  It’s going to be over in a second, OK.  All over.  Shhh,” he said when Barry whimpered again.  “It’s OK. I know you’re scared, but you’re going to be OK.  It’s just me and Cisco and Caitlin.  We wouldn’t let anything happen to you.  It’s OK.” 

            Len looked over at Caitlin, where she had managed to get a hand over Barry’s ankle, holding it gently, but steady.  Cisco handed her the needle, and she looked up at Len.

            “Barry, Scarlet,” he said, “we’re gonna get it done now, OK?  I want you to squeeze down on my hand, OK?  Squeeze down really hard and take in a big breath?  OK?  Deep breath now on three, ready?  One, two, three – deep breath.”

            Barry took in a long breath, shaking, looking at Len, and Caitlin inserted the needle.  Barry yelped, foot jerking, but Caitlin held it still.

            Barry was hyperventilating, still trying to pull his foot back in.  “Shh,” Len said, “easy, Scarlet.  It’s all done.  All over.  Good job.  You did a good job, Scarlet, it’s all done now.  Shhh, all done.”  When after a moment he kept trying to pull away, tears going down his face, when he didn’t calm down, Len frowned.  “Barry – Barry, take some deep breaths.  It’s OK, but we need you to stop pulling.  Leave your foot alone, Scarlet.  It’s OK.  I’m right here.  Shh, relax, Scarlet. It’s OK.”

            It took him another several minutes to calm down, and even after that he was still crying, still had his face hidden in Len’s shoulder.

            “I wannit out,” Barry mumbled, voice hitching.  “Please.  Take it back out.”

            “Shh, it’s OK,” Len said.  “It’s all done now.”

            “Please take it out,” he said, “Cait – please.”

            “I’m putting the antibiotics through,” Caitlin said.  She moved up to touch his hair, trying to comfort him.  “Why don’t you just try to get some sleep, Barry?  When you wake up it’ll be done.”

            Barry shook his head against Len.  “I want it out.  I don’t wanna do this.  Please.”

            “Hey, you just got it done,” Len said, trying for a lighter tone, still rubbing Barry’s back gently.  “You don’t want to take it out now – then it be all for nothing.”

            “I don’t care,” Barry said, “I want it out – I – I can feel the needle, I don’t like it – please.”

            “We’ve gotta leave it in for a little while,” Len said, “but you did so well, Scarlet.  You’re doing great.  Just try to relax, now, OK?  Hard part’s all done.”

            “I hate this,” Barry said, “I hate this so much.”

            “Just take deep breaths,” Len said, “you’re OK.” 

            “When can I have it out?” Barry asked.

            “You’re going to need it in for about an hour, Barry,” Caitlin said.

            Barry’s face contracted.  “No,” he said, “that’s too long – that… no.”  His breath hitched again and he looked from Len to Caitlin, eyes welling up with tears again.  “Please don’t make me do that.  Please.”  He looked desperately at Caitlin.  “It’ll heal.”  His voice cracked.  “It’ll heal on its own – it’s _fine_.”

            “Barry,” Len said, his voice steady now, gentle but firm.  “You need the IV in.”

            He was about to continue, when Barry made a loud noise in his throat and pressed his face back into Len’s shoulder.  He was crying again, sobs racking up his body.

            “Shh,” Len said, switching his approach quickly, “you’re OK.  It’s OK.  Easy, Scarlet.  Nice and easy now.”

            He spent another ten minutes talking Barry down, letting him cry and shake and cling to Len.  When Barry quieted down again so did Len.

            Barry was exhausted.  He felt absolutely miserable, just wanted the IV out.  But he had exhausted himself crying and as terrible as he felt, he was at least a little bit calmer.  At least calm enough to be still again and for his breathing to even out into deep, if somewhat faster than usual breaths.  He settled in against Len with his face pressed to Len’s neck, and Len rubbed his back and held him.

            Caitlin said something to Cisco then, and Len chimed in.  Barry wasn’t paying attention.  At least, not to the words.  But the way they were talking, their voices soft and calm and _normal_.  He was so used to hearing that overly steady, overly calm tone of voice in Len when things got bad, and the half clinical half sympathetic, always slightly pained quality that Caitlin took on.  But they weren’t talking like that, they were just having a conversation, and the normalness of it helped Barry to relax.

            It still seemed to take forever, especially when there was nothing really to distract him but Len’s rhythmic movements on his back and the soft hum of conversation.  They had asked if he wanted the TV on, wanted a book, something to eat, anything, but he had just shaken his head, not willing to come out from where he was hidden against Len.

            “Barry,” Caitlin said when it was finally done, “I’m going to take the IV out now.  You’re all done.”

            Barry finally looked up, but Len cupped his face and turned it back.

            “Eyes on me for one minutes, Scarlet,” he said, and Barry felt the needle move tensed up again, a whine escaping his throat, but Caitlin was finished before he could even really think about it.

            “All done,” she said, “I’m going to take another look at your leg, and your stitches.”

            It was all healed.  Caitlin unwrapped everything, and then took the stitches out, which was an uncomfortable feeling that had Barry tense and hiding again, but it wasn’t painful and it wasn’t too anxiety-provoking.

            “Barry,” Caitlin said afterwards, “we do really need you to eat something.”

            “I’m not hungry,” Barry said.

            “Can you try a calorie bar?” Caitlin asked.  “You really need more nutrients.”

            Barry shook his head.  His stomach was still churning.  He didn’t want anything to eat.

            “We really need you to have at least half a bar,” she said.  She had one in her hand.  Len took it from her, unwrapped it, and held it up.  Barry turned away.

            “I’ll make sure he eats it,” Len said, and Caitlin nodded.  She left a minute later.  Somewhere near the end of it all Cisco had disappeared, and Len had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with his sister getting home, but he let it go for the time being.

            Len sighed, and shifted a little.  “OK, Scarlet.  Time to eat something.”

            Barry shook his head, and Len moved some more, sitting up farther.  Barry whined.

            “You heard Caitlin,” Len said, “half the bar.”

            Barry shook his head.

            “That’s only a few bites, Scarlet, come on.”  He held it up near Barry’s face.  Barry cracked open one eye, looked at the bar, and then turned his head so he was facing away from Len instead.

            “Barry, you are acting like a child,” Len said, huffing and shrugging him off.  Barry let out a yelp of surprise as he was more or less dumped onto the bed.  He rolled onto his back and glared at Len.  “You need to eat,” Len said.

            Len swore he saw Barry roll his eyes, and then he flipped back over onto his stomach, grabbing a pillow.

            “Oh, no,” Len said, yanking the pillow out from under Barry’s head.  “You can sleep later.  Right now you are eating.”

            Barry grumbled something and stayed lying down, pillow or no pillow.

            Len groaned.  “Come on, Barry, it’s just a few bites.  Then you can sleep – promise.”

            “No,” Barry said.

            “Barry.”

            “No.”

            “ _Scarlet_.”

            “No.”

            Len went to hit him over the back of his head with the pillow he had stolen, stopped, and wondered if that would be triggering or misconstrued as actual anger.  He settled for reaching down and pinching Barry’s arm instead.

            Barry let out another yelp, and then settled Len with another glare after he had positioned his arm under the blankets instead.

            “Eat,” Len said.

            “I’m not hungry.”

            “You need to eat anyway.”

            “I don’t want to Len.”

            “You need to.”

            “I did an _IV_ , can’t I have a break now?”

            Len frowned at him.  “You and I both know that an IV is not on the same level as eating a few bites of a protein bar.”

            “Calorie bar,” Barry mumbled.

            Len rolled his eyes.  “Eat a few bites and then you can sleep.”

            “I don’t want to sleep.”

            “Then why are you hiding under a blanket?”

            “Because you keep trying to get me to eat!”

            Len closed his eyes.  “Barry.”

            “Len.”

            “Eat the damn calorie bar.”

            “No.”

            “ _Scarlet_.”

            They argued for another ten minutes until Len finally, _finally_ got Barry to eat half the bar.  When Barry was better he was so holding this over his head.  The ordeal was little more than a temper tantrum.

            “You are such a brat when you want to be,” Len said after Barry had finally finished, taking the half calorie bar that was left back from him.

            “I am not,” Barry huffed under his breath.

            Len just rolled his eyes.  “Are you feeling better now?”

            Barry shook his head, his expression still set in a dark glower.  “I hate IV’s.”

            Len sighed.  “I know.”

            Barry tucked his legs in under him and then rubbed at his foot.

            “It’s done now,” Len said.

            “I know,” Barry said.

            “I’m proud of you,” Len said.

            Barry looked over, one eyebrow raised.  “For what?  Crying and freaking out and totally overreacting?”

            “For staying,” Len said, “you didn’t try to run, and you didn’t keep insisting that you weren’t going to do it, not after we started talking.  You accepted what was going to happen, Barry, even though that meant you were going to be scared and upset, and I’m proud of you for that.”

            Barry’s face was taking on a slight pink color.  He looked away.

            “I have to take care of myself,” Barry said, playing with the edge of his shirt sleeve.  “I know that.  I just get scared, and I can’t… the idea of whatever it is just terrifies me so much that I can’t think about it actually happening, so I… I deny it.”

            “You didn’t this time,” Len said, “maybe a little at first, but you accepted what was going to happen on your own, and it didn’t take us practically forcing you to this time.  You did a good job, Scarlet.”

            “It’s all done now, right?” he said softly.

            “Yeah, Scarlet, it’s all done,” Len said.

            “I…” he started, swallowing, his eyes going down, “I liked when you let me stop talking… when I got nervous.  No one… they usually don’t understand… that it makes me nervous – the talking, just – just talking about it…”

            Len nodded.  “You should tell them you need a minute.  They’ll listen, Barry.”

            He nodded, then looked up.  “How did you know?”

            “How did I know what?”

            “That I got nervous just from the talking.”

            “It wasn’t that hard to figure out, Barry.”

            Barry nodded.  “You’re just always so good with everything,” he said.

            Len shrugged.  Barry was giving him a questioning look.  Len sighed.

            “You know when I told you that Lisa used to be afraid of the dentist?” he asked.

            Barry frowned, thought about it, and then remembered the conversation early on when he had asked Len why he was helping him, why he always knew what to do.  He nodded.

            “Well, I lied.”

            Barry frowned at him, opened his mouth, but Len spoke again.

            “I’m afraid of the dentist.”

            Barry stared at him.

            “You’re afraid of dentists?”

            “Yes.”

            “Like I’m afraid of doctors?”

            “Well, maybe a little less, but yeah.”

            “Dentists.”

            “Yes.”

            Barry burst out laughing.

            Len frowned, looking annoyed.   Barry was practically doubled over, laughing so hard.

            “You know,” Len said, “I didn’t laugh at you when I found out about your fears.”

            Barry shook his head.  “No,” he said, “It’s just… Captain Cold… is afraid of dentists – a-and I – the Flash, is afraid of doctors.  This is great.  The whole criminal underworld could take us down with some scalpels and a drill.”

            “I would freeze anyone before they got within twenty feet of me with a drill,” Len mumbled.

            Barry kept laughing, until it finally died out again a little.  “I can’t believe this,” he said, and then he turned to him.  “Why did you lie to me?  Why tell me it was your sister?”

            Len shrugged.  “I still didn’t trust you fully – that was back right after Mardon – and it’s not something I tell people anyway.  Like at all.  You and Lisa and Mick are the only ones who know.”

            “Oh,” Barry said, straightening a little.

            “I can’t really afford for people to know,” Len said, “not with what I do.”

            Barry nodded.  “So dentists,” he said, trailing off.  “How do you… I mean…”

            “I drug myself,” Len said.

            Barry blinked.  “You drug yourself?”

            “Yes.”

            “With what?”

            “Valium.  Sometimes Xanax.  Depends what I can get.  I usually have laughing gas too.”

            “You take valium.”

            “Yes.”

            “You.”

            “Yes.”

            A grin spread across his face slowly.  “I want to see that.”

            Len scowled at him.  “You’re a brat, you know that?”

            Barry grinned.  “I think you just told me that, yes.”  Barry sat up a bit, and his fingers started to trail down Len’s arm.  “What are you like?”

            Len shrugged.  “I get really calm.  And then I start talking way too much.  If you want to know more than that, you’ll have to ask Mick.  I don’t usually remember much.”

            “Mick is with you?”

            “Mick takes me.  Drags me there mostly.”

            “How come you hate it so much?”

            Len winced.  “Dear old Dad didn’t like paying for dentists.  Had a friend who flunked out of med school and would take a look at teeth for twenty bucks.  Would pull them out with plyers for fifty.  Fifty was too much though, so he did that himself.”

            Barry cringed.  “That sounds awful.”

            “It was,” Len said.  He didn’t try to mask the grimace on his face.

            Barry was silent for a moment.  “Can I go with you next time.”

            Len cringed, looking away for a moment.  “Barry…”

            “Let me help you,” Barry said, “like you help me.”

            Len looked at him again.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Barry,” he said.

            “I want to help you,” Barry repeated.

            Len let out a long breath.  “Maybe for a cleaning,” he said.  He looked sideways at him.  “Not if there’s a cavity.  Not it there’s going to be needles involved.”

            Barry swallowed.  “Fine,” he said, “that… OK, no needles.  That makes sense.  But…”

            “Maybe for a cleaning,” Len repeated.  “I’ll think about it.”

            Barry smiled, and moved a little closer to him again.  He hesitated, and then looked up, and their faces were already so close.  He leaned in and his lips brushed Len’s.

            He kissed him, and then Len kissed back, and then Barry was kneeling, and somehow he wound up straddling Len, leaning in close, hands braced against the back of the headboard at first, but then curling around Len, over his back, his neck.  Len’s hands were on his hips, thumbs rubbing in circles, sending warmth into Barry’s stomach.  They kept kissing until Barry pulled away suddenly.

            Len stopped, stilling.  Barry was staring at him intently.  Len let his fingers splay out over Barry’s hips, edging up on his back, under his shirt.  Barry shivered.

            “I like this,” he said.

            Len cocked his head to one side.  Barry was still staring at him.

            “I like us,” Barry continued.

            Len felt something like panic edge up his throat, a deep-seated fear he had never been able to completely squash down.  A rush of something else chased the fear down into his stomach though, spread out, warmed him.  He found he didn’t care much about the fear then.

            “I like us too,” he said quietly.

            Barry reached down, hands covering Len’s now, until they entwined together.  He leaned in and kissed Len again, once, twice, then leaned back.

            “You know,” Barry said.  He swallowed hard before meeting Len’s eyes again, a small, nervous smile on his face.  “Caitlin and Cisco… Iris… even Joe… they’ve all taken this… you know, with you there all the time… a lot better than I expected…”

            “My sister already loves you,” Len said flatly, but he was smiling too.

            Barry’s smile widened, shy, nervous, but he met Len’s eyes again.  “And anyway… it doesn’t really matter, what anyone else thinks… and I… I like being with you…”

            Len’s head dipped in a nod.

            “I like us,” he said again, voice quiet.  “I don’t… I don’t want this to be… to just be you comforting me though…” 

            “Scarlet,” Len said, a laugh bubbling up his throat, “this hasn’t been just me comforting you for a very long time.”

            Barry’s eyes jumped back up, wide and a little shocked.  “I like you, Len,” he said.

            “What a coincidence,” Len said, and then he kissed him again, “I like you too.”


	28. Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER
> 
> OK, note, this fast forwards at least two weeks past the last chapter.
> 
> Second note, LAAASSTTT CHAAPPTEERR wow it's been long 
> 
> Oh, and please read the end notes on this one :)

            “You have to hold me.”

            “I’ll hold you.”

            “Promise?

            “Promise.”

            “And if I say stop you have to stop.”

            “We’ll stop – there’s no time pressure on this one, Barry.  You can take as long as you need – but it probably be easier to get it done faster.”

            “I know but –”

            “If you say stop, we’ll stop.”

            Len opened the door to Barry’s room at Star.  Caitlin was already waiting with the shot.  She had it under a cloth, hidden from view.

            Len sat on the couch.  Barry settled next to him.  Caitlin got him a drink, had him fool with a Rubik’s Cube for a little bit.  They had found it made a good distraction for him, something that occupied his hands and held enough of his attention to get his mind to relax.  He was getting good at it, could do it in only a few minutes now.  When he finished it Len took a bottle of lavender scented hand lotion and took Barry’s hand, rubbing it softly into his skin.  The scent was calming, and the motion helped ground Barry.  They had a half-dozen little tricks like these now to help him with the smaller stuff – the stuff they could prepare for.  Lots of them were silly little things, but they helped.

            “OK, Barry,” Caitlin said.  She had the shot in her hand now, the cloth in her other hand hiding it.

            Barry took a deep breath, then looked away.  Before he could say anything Len caught him up in his arms, and Barry rested his forehead against Len’s shoulder.

            “All set now,” Len said, “Nice and easy.”  And that was the cue, and Caitlin gave him the shot.  She did it right as he finished the phrase and Barry tensed and let out a choked, scared noise, but by the time the sound was finished Caitlin was done.  She pulled the shot back and quickly discarded it before pressing a pad of gauze to the wound.

            “When I take this gauze off,” Caitlin said, “it’ll stop hurting.  Ready?  Three… two… one.”  And she lifted it away.  There was a single spot of blood on the gauze, but Barry’s speed healing had already closed the tiny puncture wound, so there was no need of a Band-Aid.

            The whole thing had been orchestrated ahead of time.  They had started using that phrasing whenever there was something painful coming.  The problem was that Barry wanted to know before they did anything, got completely panicked if they did something without telling him, and was entirely focused on it before hand if he knew they weren’t going to tell him.  But he hated count-downs – couldn’t stand it if they said a one-two-three – the anticipation was too much.  They needed a way to warn him, let him clearly know what was about to happen, without him getting so scared.  So they decided on a phrase, and now when Len said “all set now” it meant that they were about to do it, whatever it was, and that was Barry’s chance to say no, he needed a break, he needed to pause, to stop, and then “nice and easy” was the equivalent of a one-two-three – at the end of the phrase, Caitlin did whatever needed to be done.  It was basically the same thing, but the mere fact of the calmer connotations of the words being spoken helped to keep Barry relaxed.  The trick with the gauze afterwards was just a way to hopefully break him out of it, to signal an end to the ordeal rather than have it drag on and on.  It was simplistic, had Barry feeling a little childish, but so far it seemed to be helping – they were still trying it out.

            “OK now?” Len asked.  He leaned back a bit, but Barry didn’t let go, had his free hand gripping at Len’s side.

            “Y-yeah,” he said though.  He didn’t sound too convincing, but his breathing wasn’t terribly labored and he wasn’t crying, and Len would take that.

            “Wanna move to the bed?”

            Barry nodded against him and Len stood.  Barry kept a hand on his arm and Len moved his hand against Barry’s back to walk him over to the bed.  He sat back down there and Barry followed.  It helped him to move someplace different right afterwards – another affirmation that the ordeal was over.  They sat there for another fifteen minutes before Barry really started to relax.

            “Think you’re ready to go?” he asked.

            Barry nodded.  They got up again and walked out, both saying bye to Caitlin as they went.

            When they reached Len’s motorcycle he stopped, turned, and took both of Barry’s shoulders gently, hands loose, and leaned in and kissed him.

            “I have a surprise for you,” Len said, “if you’re feeling up to it.”

            Barry smiled, “what kind of surprise?”

            “The kind of surprise you don’t get to ask questions about,” he said pointedly.

            Barry leaned in and kissed him again but Len pulled away.

            “So?  Feeling up to it?  We can go back if you’re not.”

            “No, I feel OK,” Barry said, “as long as the surprise doesn’t involve me being the Flash.”

            “Mmm, this is just for Barry, the Flash is not invited,” Len said, “but that’s all your getting.”

            “Oh, come on, no hints?”

            “No hints.”

            “Does it involve –”

            Len stuck a helmet over his head.  “No hints.”

            They drove down into the center of town, Barry watching the whole way, but it wasn’t until they parked in front of the restaurant that Barry realized they were going out to eat.

            “Dinner?” he said.

            “Yep,” Len said.  He turned back to him. 

            “Is this why you told me to wear the button down?”

            “I do love red on you,” Len mumbled, reaching out to touch the material.

            “It’s maroon.”

            “It’s red,” Len said.

            “You’re colorblind.”

            “You’re picky.”

            Barry’s nose scrunched, a slightly exasperated look on his face.  “OK, Len.”

            “We’ve never been on a date,” Len said, “I figured it was about time we change that.”

            “A date,” Barry repeated, like he was in awe.  “We’re going on our first date.”

            “Yes.”

            The smile started slowly, grew piece by piece on his face, but when Barry finally looked up and met his eyes it was all there, that same bright, warm, kind energy that Len had fallen for the same way, piece by piece.

            Barry linked their arms.  “OK then,” he said, “let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

            The dinner was nice.  They were a bit underdressed but Len couldn’t come up with an excuse for Barry to wear a tie without having tipped him off to his little surprise earlier.  It wasn’t a big deal – there were other people dressed similarly, just not very many, and Barry didn’t seem to care – Len actually was the one feeling a little self-conscious about it, but he could put the feeling aside without too much difficulty.  It was worth it anyway.

            Len almost gasped when Barry got soda with his meal.  Len ordered a bottle of wine and insisted on pouring Barry a glass.

            “I can’t get drunk, Len.”

            “You don’t drink wine to get drunk, Barry.”

            “I don’t even like the taste of wine.”

            “Well you’re going to learn – you don’t drink orange soda with steak, Barry.”

            Barry grumbled and then made faces at Len at the taste.  Len decided not to point out that the bottle cost more than both their meals combined and he was a goddamn child and at twenty six he should really be able to appreciate some good wine by now.

            They had a good time.  The food was good, the décor was nice, and it was altogether the best first date Len had ever been on.  Barry seemed to have completely forgotten about the shot and he was laughing, smiling, and Len thought he was beautiful.

            They ordered two appetizers, Barry finished Len’s meal, and then they each got a desert, which Barry once again finished for Len.  Len was pretty sure he could have eaten more too, but that would have looked very odd.

            When they were done and got up to leave Barry slipped his hand into Len’s.  They walked out like that, and Len had the dizzying thought that this was the first time they had ever just held hands, had just held hands because they wanted to, not because Barry was in pain, or Len was trying to comfort him.  It was startlingly normal and Len felt drunk with it.

            “So,” Barry said once they were outside, walking to the parking lot, “does this mean we’re dating?”

            “Think there has to be multiple dates for it to be dating,” Len said.

            “I think we could fix that,” Barry said.

            “Yeah?” Len said, “Did I earn the chance to a second date?  This wasn’t too horrible?”

            “I’m pretty sure we can go with not horrible,” Barry said.

            Len kissed him.  “Oh good,” he said, “I was worried.”

            “You might have to do better next time though,” Barry said, “I do get bored.”

            Len smiled.  “Is that a challenge?”

            Barry’s eyebrows shot up.  “If you steal me a diamond, or take me on some picnic to a closed museum at night or something –”

            “So I’m assuming a new Van Goh for a present is out of the picture?”

            Barry glared at him.

            Len laughed.  “OK, so legal, fine.  You take the fun out of everything.”

            “Oh shut up,” Barry said, so Len kissed him again.

            “So dating,” Len said.

            Barry tensed just the slightest bit.  “I mean, if –”

            “Does that mean I get to call you my boyfriend?”

            Barry took in a breath.  “If you want.”

            “I think I want,” he said.

            And then that smile was back, all at once this time, Barry’s hands suddenly clutching at his arms, but it was so different now, such a different feeling when he was pulling him forward because he wanted to, because he could, not because he was scared, or confused, or pained, because he wanted to, he wanted this, he wanted Len.  Barry wanted Len.  Wanted to be close to him.  The thought washed over Len in a dizzying rush, a warm, half-contented, half-desiring feeling, like he wanted to be closer, just wanted to be closer to this man in front of him with his dizzying smile and his too-kind heart.

            “Thank you,” Barry said, “for everything.”

            “You don’t have to thank me,” Len said, “I like helping you.  I like being with you, Barry.”

            Barry pressed against him, arms wrapping around him and it was like he couldn’t breathe but he no longer cared very much for air.

            “I couldn’t have done this without you,” Barry said, and his voice came out quiet, almost a whisper.  “I really couldn’t, Len.”

            “Hey now,” Len said, and his voice had gone soft too, his hand running across Barry’s back, “don’t say that.  I know you could have.  You’re so strong, Scarlet.  I know you would have made it out fine no matter what.”

            “Maybe,” Barry said, “but not like this.  Not so well, not –”  His breath hitched, and Len heard it and frowned.  “You’ve helped me so much,” Barry continued, “I don’t know what would have happened without you.  I’m… I’m really glad you helped me… I’m really glad I ran into you and Mardon that day.  Even though I got hurt.  I’m really glad I went with you to find him.  I’m just… I’m really glad you’re here.  For everything, for… for being with me too – for helping, and being there, but… for this too.”

            He looked up, his eyes a little watery.  “I really had a good time tonight, Len.  I really like you too.  I’m not… not just glad because you help me, I’m glad because you’re here with me now too.”

            Len took a long breath.  “Me too,” he said, and he closed his eyes as Barry rested his chin against his shoulder again, arms squeezing tighter around him.  “Me too, Scarlet.”

            He opened his eyes and saw Barry leaning back again, so his face was right in front of Len’s.  And there was that smile again, from his lips to his eyes.

            It started slow, slower than Barry’s ever did, and it wasn’t as bright, probably never would be, but Barry watched as Len’s mouth went up at one side then the other, like his lips were still learning how to form without making a smirk, but they went, and his eyes shined, and his nose pinched, just the slightest bit. 

            And Barry watched as Len smiled too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONE :)
> 
> PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT :))) It really makes my day to read the comments. Thanks to everyone who has already left comments - you spur me on to write more :) And thank you to everyone who has made it through the whole thing. 
> 
> And if you're not totally sick of me yet, I will direct you to the next part in this series, "Drowning" which takes place a month after the ending here. And I'd also just like to let you all know to look out for the next part in the series, "Inhale" which will be a much more heavy on the relationship side, BE SURE TO READ TAGS AND WARNINGS FOR THAT ONE. First couple chapters of "Inhale" should be out soon, and I already have a bunch out for "Drowning" but I should be finishing that one up shortly too - it probably just needs one more chapter.
> 
> Anyway, it's the ending of this part, but there's a lot more I already have planned out too. So enjoy, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. For everyone who has anxiety problems or phobias or PTSD like Barry does, you're not alone, it get's better, and as a side note, sometimes writing about it helps :) For everyone who just loves Barry whump, I hope I've delivered, and you should write more of it too, and then tell me about it, because I love reading it!
> 
> Thank you, it's been great, see you on the other stories.
> 
> \- fallingleaves

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment and let me know what you thought I really appreciate it :)


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